, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,


let me just this moment
lay my head
upon your shoulder
trace your secrets again..
and your voice will tickle me
because i haven’t heard it
in a while..

i’ll pretend not to see
the scar on your hand
from when i broke you
and you can pretend not to notice
the way i say your name

just let me write you
in a hundred places
and don’t get mad when
i wait to watch you sleeping..

and we can tell that story
– to each other of course –
about the angel and the little girl
(was me so far away)

while you twirl my hair
and always make up the ending –

‘..and one day
they got a house on the beach
because that’s what she wanted..’

your eyes are always so yellow
when the sun is setting

‘..and he painted the whole world
different colors just for her’

. . .