XXVII.
i've always been inclined to feel for you.
sadly, there is only cigarette smoke and the faint scent of your watch.
you're always a breath too far to call tangible.
A
BẠN ĐANG ĐỌC
fifteen (XV)
Thơ Cai prick my finger on a rose in my garden. my blood is not red. i take the wind caressing my face as a silent apology. cover art made by doradorapuff on tumblr. [2015] thank you to everyone who shared with me these short poems as they were published...
