Last fall as the night’s chill snuck up on us,
sitting behind the tall oak tree
on Lilac Lane,
I kissed you with my small town lips,
tasted you with my country tongue
and learned a lot about pain — love.
Silk skin in the moonlight
razor sharp kisses.
Crescent shaped scars on my chest
where you showed me how to fly.
And I
remember falling asleep
in a pile of red and orange
the crinkle of leaves
and the shape of the moon on my soft skin.
Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts in the comments below.
-Wishing you the brightest of days,Eva
” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow,my ink would cease to flow.”
via Moon
1withthepen 