thoughts on a walk in may
I want to tattoo the sound of wind rushing through trees on my skin,
the smell of lilacs on the milky stretches of my arm so when I brush it, the smell rises.
I wish that with every footfall there was the sound of rain, so my arrival could be announced by the sound of a building summer storm.
- composed in my head, 2pm, walking on a street called marmaduke
YOU ARE READING
Eventide
Poésiea little collection of the poems and prose that stuck, the ones I can't un-memorize. written at eventide. (Cover photo taken by me, please leave it where it is)
