LXVIII.
you told me that chest hair
reminded you of your older brother,
and when you used to sneak into his room at 1am
on nights you couldn't fall asleep
and found slumber on his chest.
B
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fifteen (XV)
Poetryi 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...
