No, I don't want to sleep in those fragrant places
I just want to see your face!
The same roofcase, or the sad flickers—I don't care!
We're breathing above the same seaside.
No, I don't want to be your damn junior,
I want to push you into my bed!
These blips drifting through a busy head,
my tremolo was sent into my ribs and suddenly all the stars dropped off the galaxies
They can do nothing other than admiring the only glow,
our glow.
And my lips are aching and missing the taste of yours inside a fading tendency,
the immature visions, and deep deep deep attachment ending (probably) with dead butterflies but this is
something memorable, like
the way your grin parts my lips in authentic surprise, OR
A shaking smile when my tiptoes prancing slightly in doubts—
But you are the clouds to my sky,
I thought I was so complete, then your shadow waltz behind a blank canvas,
I grabbed it in a flash and put you as my next work of art.
You are something tricky, a memorable mindfuck, sending precious blips;
My favorite part.
