28.5.22 9:00 am
Written by
around :
28.5.22 9:00 am
there :
Write back to him :
Happy thirty-first one, dearest.
Six Hundred Ninety-Three tulips and a thorn
Still, the Queen chose two lips for a throne
Whistle through them
Turn air into song
Turn your back to a gem, bet
A ruby will turn back to a stone
We'll tend to the Garden
That sits at the back of your skull
Wounds and flowers, mended
There's a message and you sent it
Maybe every angel has not yet fallen