Tag: poem
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Petrichor 5-7-5
Her hair smelled of hay, summer rain and first kisses; breathless, petrichor. His fingers trembled childhood’s last tattoo, across her pale, arching spine. Ryan Stone
Her hair smelled of hay, summer rain and first kisses; breathless, petrichor. His fingers trembled childhood’s last tattoo, across her pale, arching spine. Ryan Stone