Monday, June 24, 2013
224. Taxi
All of these tornadoes
In the fields of your hair
In my street
In our spit.
As if your body
Was still mine
To touch.
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All of these tornadoes
In the fields of your hair
In my street
In our spit.
As if your body
Was still mine
To touch.
All of these tornadoes
In the fields of your hair
In my street
In our spit.
As if your body
Was still mine
To touch.
