his words carried further deeper on my way to heaven please please please let me hold on to all of my all of our memories soaring higher than sora to a kindom where our hearts never die please please please on my on our way to heaven
Tag: Lovers
playoff game
we lost. we were barely playing, showed up late cussed each other out finished strong too not show up when it mattered most; it's not all you i know the ball could have been better not perfect, just better we were never perfect just humans showing up each game playing for our lives
knitted sweater
your warmth, was taken for granted applied for a loan, yet you passed it.
already gone-
chances of a revival; last night you came into my dream last night you were a dream, to bring a few words chances of a revival: the second coming your rebirth is here. awaken looked out the window the peep hole nothing
a night in Santorini
just stay an extra night will waive the fee the loose change free of charge round trip flight
on your love)
docile disguises drifting in the clouds; some days i'll rest this pen, like eyeballs on a pillow, n' let the words come from writing on a wall subconscious love existing on an edge made of paper planes flying(
faulty timing
shape up or she'll be gone listen up, if you were a man you'd know what's going on at home "your" home- nothing but a coward nothing is what roams these halls calls to you in the night reads to you in the dark- it's frosty in this bed our bed the one we share… Continue reading faulty timing
shy
i know you're shy you won't leave the house without a coat you won't answer the phone with a hello but with a what can i do for you you won't lean forward without a wire you're a smooth criminal
final ballet
words don't travel as they use to blocked by mountains scared of river beds drowning in wastelands bringing death, to her knees singing her song that sweet last song
your song
this dream- the one that calls me in the morning eats with me at lunch and crawls into my sheets every night- i remember our first dance to Maroon 5 in a gym now we slow dance to Elton John i miss my wife but this life swipes my throat like a pup's belly. treasure;
Saint's Muse 