How to Write a Song That Makes Her Love Me Back

A week later I knelt in wet leaves at the foot of my parents garden soil under my fingernails and a hard plastic treasure clamped between my teeth. Cut this line it's a bad way to start your story. It's not literary to give common objects a few skatery new names. Crimson flushed with embarrassment and october cold I dug is too on the nose you've given us fallen wet leaves why spool that lovely subtle cue by steaming in to explain? How can the narrator see the color of their own cheeks? Andrew look if you were sitting in a car and the driver asked you to reach into the club compartment and pass them a hard plastic Treasure would you