On to the hue of summer days that never end.
The pure comfort found in your own arms.
It's refreshing naps.
Quiet movies flickering upon muted screens.
The bristles of paint brushes dragging across canvas.
Cat's purrs and bundles of blankets.
It's the soul in her eyes and the whispering words she never speaks.
It's the sound of slow breathing.
But it's the feeling of envy.
The knowing you'll never have it all.
The waste brought back up here throat by two fingers full of tears.
The terror she yields behind her mind with that agonising grin.
