slippery slide lost to your
transatlantic psychic trills and calls
little guitar riffs that feed my insomnia
connecting without wires keeping
baristas from their beds
you are my pen that never runs out of ink
my intercontinental waterproof paper
you can tattoo me with your heart
you make me honest and I don't mind the pain
1 comment:
My goodness I love this. Its different from what I'm used to from you, but still, I love it.
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