Thursday, 18 January 2018

you


walking home with my face half melted i tell myself
write a list of every sign you were given. i tell myself
there's a current that ends at my fingertips
and you're wired different. i tell myself

i fret over my walk, my face, my hair,
soaking up the seconds before i get to see you

(to be honest that feels better than seeing you.) 

but
don't we look nice together?





it's fine if you walk me to the door
i can dream it different

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