April 2012
3 posts
“It was ice cream headaches and sweet avalanche, when the pearls in our shells got up to dance. Youcalled me
a bad tipper of the craddle,
but I’m just tired yawns for fawns on hunters lawns. We’re the hasbeens of the husbands. Sharpering the knives of young wives. Take two years and call me when you’re better.
Take tears of mine and find yourself wetter.”
