Poetry · Writing

first floor – second deck hall of a balcony still under construction

i only can picture you

not in a frame or a scrapbook

a memory;

where we all live

in harmony dancing on the first floor

our favorite floor

the song- our song

the one that hasn’t been written

it’s our favorite,

and you’ll hold me

run your fingers through my hair;

(you know i love that shit)

you know i love you

since the moment i saw you

that song began

my- our favorite

on this first floor

of this safe place

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