deepundergroundpoetry.com
Warmth
I have a sore on my toe
That I press on the wall sometimes.
Having it scream, And throb
to beats fast and slow
Is a certainty beyond the lies of wine,
A certainty that warms my bloodstream.
That I press on the wall sometimes.
Having it scream, And throb
to beats fast and slow
Is a certainty beyond the lies of wine,
A certainty that warms my bloodstream.
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