My mouth refuses to stop.
This is me and now
the past is just the past.
Lovers come and go
It never seems to last.
But I like you
sure do
like like you.
Promise,
sealed with good times:
sitting out at the same time
in the summer grass
running literal bases
instead of dirty metaphors.
Drinking at British bars,
stacking perilous towers
always at risk to fall.
Inching closer
in front of the fire
setting marshmallows on fire.
Little moments, my friend
bringing us here
holding hands
as we watch lightning rolling in
Bringing us the thunder.
No comments:
Post a Comment