Of rose petals for what seems like
A million times, haven't you?
But you were born with lover's hands.
Your fingers never callous and so each time
They leave hurts like the first and only time
You will ever be killed.
But your blood is not virgin blood.
You are all too accustomed
To the sound a door makes
When it slams
And the look on a boy's face
when he tells you
He has found someone else.
Backs and baby hairs twirling at the back of his neck
Are at once beautiful and saddening,
For the look of him leaving
Is all too familiar.
YOU ARE READING
?
Randomyour'e in lleh s t r a n g e r ( i post quote sometimes mine sometimes not mine you'll never now just read)
