A Collector of Hearts
My heart lies on your shelf
Congealed in its emotions
Swimming in that psuedo-formaldahyde
We call love
I wonder if you ever
Take it out and look at it;
Hold it in your hands?
Think about
What a beautiful speciman it is...?
You poor, blind
Kerouac-toting
Predator--
It was yours
From the moment
I laid eyes on you
Y'know, if you log in, you can write something here, or contact authors directly on the site. Create a New User if you don't already have an account.