Hold My Hand

Sunday, June 06

By Lane Bashline

When he holds my hand, he plays with my sleeve 

When plays with my hair, he brushes the ends

He coils my shimmery hair

The sun brushes up against his smooth skin

 

Head and shoulders shampoo and mint gum

Fallon asleep

Dreaming about twirling in the rain

Birds dancing around our smiles

Dogs bark at our feet

 

Up on point 

Floating with a voice in my head

Painting our nails

Dancing with the devil

Cold hands brush up on my face

Leaves kick our shoes

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