It's two o'clock and why dose my
fingers itches to send a text without
no Meaning, why dose my ears pull to
Hear your voice and you hear mine,
a sweet, savory biscuit left to dry
It's two o'clock and I think of the heat
and it's abecent but memory thank god,
The months and years will hopefully not
Lost it, for I will not forgive even time,
It's two o'clock and I'm typing editing the
sheet of a cringe ick romantic poem,
That might take a stand or fall in the list
of love and lost poems,
It's two o'clock click and I click, missed
made a mistake and typed click three
times,
With my eyelids getting heavy with
unrelase dreams and my body aches for
me to go asleep,
The feeling of a feather a thread running
On a skin just to slowed to a stop,
Overboarded gaze
It's two o'clock and as chessy as it
sounds do you see the flower drinking
the rain and the sun drinking from its
peddles even though it's high above the
Ground.
-ashespoetry
