he said, do you mind if we walk?
no, but do you mind if i float?
looking into your grey i lose my touch.
the world spirals though blurry frames
as lines guide fingers to sheets, often pens.
trace the path of our distance.
less than an ocean, sometimes a desert.
the city below could not distract me
the world spirals though blurry frames
as lines guide fingers to sheets, often pens.
trace the path of our distance.
less than an ocean, sometimes a desert.
the city below could not distract me
from the shoulder where i wished the minutes still.
in you i beg for more and find it. every night an ending,
with the whole of the day waiting to begin.
in dust we may find ourselves again.
at dawn i can tell you the time. a place where moments dance on busy veins.
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