Bruised Peach
Never let go, the
strand of my hair
tucked behind
your stare
Exquisitely soft,
as my fingers
cross..
Even the simplest
of touches, burn
their imprints
into the skin,
So that every root
and every vein
I have felt,
Whispers your name.
Copyright © Madrigal Franch | Year Posted 2014
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