My hands feel sweaty As I gently lift you off my lap Your gray tail curves against my arm And I feel as though you’re holding on Not because you’re afraid to fall But because you’re afraid to keep holding on   Fragile bones of starvation can be felt Amongst the ungroomed, greasy hair You…

This content is for Friends of Burningword 3-Day Pass, Friends of Burningword 3-Month Subscription, Friends of Burningword Annual Subscription and Basic Member members.
Log In Register
%d bloggers like this: