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■ The oak
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2015-05-05 | | I am too much for you and always will be your hand will never cup my cheek your mouth won’t touch these parched lips I won’t die in your arms a romantic Juliet with eyes of burnt grass dear Romeo I am too much your love for me was always stunted never tailored to the shape of my heart you only steal bits of my soul feed on raw feelings during nights when the quicksilver moon burns your temple and my smile chokes your breath you don’t have enough poison I don’t have enough patience do not love me... you’d have to grow several hearts to do it right
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