Things I dreamt about in my pile of normal;
my black and white existence,
my palace of average,
were bleak re runs of lives I'd seen lived before.
you slipped your hand in my one size fits all soul
and when your fingers were dripping,
saturated with who I am, and who I've been
the misery of being away from you
over powers and overwhelms any beautiful place
I may be.
No comments:
Post a Comment