Then the rain stopped..
So did she,
She wiped her eyes,
Looked at the soaked paper,
Stood up.. And left!
Category: Hurt
Poem, Poetry by Liana Kaylee Avila
Darling, you like to play with fire.
To be drenched in gasoline is what you desire.
Late nights you never seem to tire
Cause darling, you like to play with fire,
And pretend your slipping life weren’t so dire,
So easily tempted by two pairs of speeding tire.
