poetry

Miss Becca Lynne

By Amy Thomson

I miss your blue saucer eyes,
incapable of lies,
the rosy cheeks illuminate,
ruminate.
It’s okay baby,
to maybe
let yourself be.
Live for your smile,
talk a mile
a
m i l l i s e c o n d.
A sister’s love,
covalently bonded,
I should have responded
sooner
to your text.
When should we hang
next?

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