no one is going to figure this out. she thinks. not you. notme. not the cold silences full. to slow snow mornings of too many hands and feet. and not enough instant coffee. when i was you. and you were wild. and games were all the lies we spilled when we loved. and lost. then clues didn't feel so insane to parse. when worlds spun. to hold. our kisses -- nights. too much. too long. too soon. now. gone.


Post a Comment

<< Home