There is no-one quite like you – you swallow
my heart, with just a glance; melt my insides
with merely a touch. Me, the original home-
spun gal, have fallen for you – with your
spangles, patent leather, velour, and feathers...
… you make me playlists of songs
I detest yet somehow have learned to adore.
You’re the bottom to my top and I’ll go along
with whatever you want – you’re my weakness.
I detest yet somehow have learned to adore.
You’re the bottom to my top and I’ll go along
with whatever you want – you’re my weakness.
In all your trash and glam by Elizabeth Bachinsky
from her poem Valley from her book Home of
Sudden Service.
from her poem Valley from her book Home of
Sudden Service.
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