I'm sure if I put the gun to my head and said:
"hey beautiful, watch me bleed."
She'd probably respond with her mouth open and her knees on the ground.
"not that gun." I whisper
It wouldn't have mattered anyways, I still rested my finger on the trigger.
YOU ARE READING
Roses In The Sun
PoetryA book dedicated to the thoughts that lie beneath the surface of all that I am, all that I will be, and all that I hope to become. A book dedicated to the outcasts, to those who've felt invisible, to those who want to read and fall in love with the...
