

INKIf she was born an Angel, I’m sure no one saw her wings Beneath the embroidered garden enveloping her back: Peacock feathers, old silver picture frames and amber rings Lay celestially sewn on the skin by ink-tipped needles Like poison darts, they spilled out; living parchment and rich riddles.INK
The smell of the rain forest was the burning of her skin, She took all her forgiveness and locked it tightly within.
Mottled tulips graced her fingertips, ink rained on her toes, Her thighs nurtured blue ivy and tabby cats in repose. On her long arms rested more flowers, they would neve
by £deviantWEAR
by `zancan
--
~Hogwarts-Castle~
A spiritful
Violetta' s Dorm Space
--
Dont argue; I wear the vest in this relationship.
--
I eat paint.
Previous PageNext Page