Denim Shirt
and he doesn't mindwhen rain falls and
soaks his denim shirt,
its faded hues darkening,
pressed close against
his chest -
like breath
that I inhale.
and when he cries
I taste the salt
of a thousand
rainy days,
when walking
over soft wet sand
he seeks to
hold my hand.
He says 'no matter'
and still will smile
when cold hands
touch his heart,
undoing all the
buttons from his
faded old blue shirt
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2014-04-24 at 18:22
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Lawrence Beck |
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by Elle Latest textsHillsNot the End Cinders Oh perfect Day Happy Christmas |
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