Falling onto pillows he spoons so clueless windows open eyes are for closing.
Summer is close if we want it to be. for it is how we are made. into lunacy. a song
Your nostalgia safely pinned, straight to the point, to nothing ripped.
Only thirst for a sip of you. on this street I'm so forlorn. I love you like a shirt that will never be torn.
I don't talk about the inevitable these days because it would change everything I am right now. that'd be completely okay.
I'd want to lose you to your own room some nights, so we can lose ourselves to life instead of love. rich is so many different ways.
You took the rain from my drop.
the hot air from my laughter.
the cheese from my cracker
the socks off my tip toe'd feet
the glow from my light bulb
the numb from my nyquill
the pain from my relationships
the hesitation from my fingertips and the impatiences from my doubting lips.
the ground to my floor
you covered every window and dug to the bottom of each and every pore.
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