I woke up in Portland,
With the taste of you still
Fresh on my lip.
Like hot syrup on a waffle.
The cool wind catches my hair, and tosses it into the blue of my eyes,
And into the pink of your mouth.
what goes in must come out!!
You've survived what you thought would destroy you. Now...get the fuck up, dust yourself off, and keep pushing forward...
What I've always wanted
A site for poetry and other stuff
Not a dealer - downsizing and have some spare antiques