Her flushed blue jeans are a story.
A bit toxic, a fox with tricks.
You talk about a razor and a process,
And starts a project at the wrist.
Her face hidden in a book,
In disgust by her looks.
Her room is her partner.
Four walls are her armour,
expressing opportunity,
Only when its darker.
The only place she shows her face.
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Author:
darren mcgavin (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 13th, 2019 23:41
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
Offline)
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