time passes as an old, forgotten friend.
we sleep in between worlds
in my bed; i wonder why you've
never mentioned your roommatesbefore but i could care less as soon
as the thought appearsi'd much rather listen to you
breathe like this.
tomorrow we should talk.
i suppose,
----
a coma of your own
i lay awakewhy step outside
your own worldjust for me?
----
i wonder if i should
take my meds
if you were awake
i'm not quite surewhat you'd tell me.
i think i love that
about you.
what are we?
certainly nothing to
label
whatever this is now
i'll take it.
YOU ARE READING
fading voices [ the SEQUEL to little talks ]
Historia Cortasometimes there is nothing worse than an apology. - cooper