Taste of dirt;
touch of flipped pages
lurking in the cavern behind my mouth.
Sour’s beauty
beholden in locked teeth.
Never can let it escape.
An end’s taste,
I salivate.
Taste of dirt
creeping in the dark.
Nearer it comes in the mind.
( ❤ Mitch)
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
Published by merzkehd
Hello! My name is Mitch Worden, and I spend my days as a student, employee, exercise enthusiast, music reviewer, and poet! At the present time, I'm using WordPress to branch away from other websites and exhibit my own works by themselves. I hope you like what you read, and thank you for stopping by!
View all posts by merzkehd
