You’re disgusting when you speak
and you’re so damn cruel to me
I think under the sheets
you taste like tomorrow or next week
falling beneath the line of vision
an ocean of cushions and distance
too close or too far to hold close
away on the waves you go
you’re so sweet when you speak
with rough waters in between
and you’re so damn kind to me
when someone stands beneath
holding you above the sun
blocking the light so it’s always night
where I’m standing.
No comments:
Post a Comment