you've
got a stain
on your clothes
it's a cherry blossom
but i think it's a rose
i've
got a stain
on my lips
where yours just were
and your hands are on my hips
it's
a soft scene
i hate to call it a stain
we twirl around the living room
but it's all now etched inside my brain
YOU ARE READING
Serenity - A Journal Of Some Sort
RandomThey tell me that what I create is chaos. But what I create is the only thing that brings me serenity. ~ warning: this book abruptly switches from deep personal narratives to really random stuff so hop on and enjoy the ride
