i smell disgusting.
i cut my finger on a violin string.
but for a day full of let-downs, i am strangely content.
if you were here right now, snuggled up in blankets,
our faces lit up with a movie on my computer screen,
i'd probably tell you that i feel like water
and i'd pour myself all over you, little tree,
while wishing that you would grow into something i could love.
No comments:
Post a Comment