Her

I write about you with whisky breath. Pushing my pen with a resolve to see the end of the sentence, I push past myself.

My skin crawls as I scrawl the meaning of my heart.

… at least it is a start towards the meaning of my heart.

One cup past two and I’m in the mood for you. The writing has begun.

-OM

44.1

@smokendust

7 thoughts on “Her

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