gooey melodies
playing on repeat
under the stars
beneath a canopy
of afterthoughts.
lay with me,
just for a little while.
lie to me;
let's make pretend.
i don't want this time
with you
to end.
though the expiration date
draws near,
let's pretend were honey
for one more night,
my dear.
About the Creator
Mae Flowers
Weaver of words into poetry and short fiction. Fan of the Oxford comma.
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