|this floor wants nothing to do with me
Author: speakeasy-love PM
I suffer from a fatal, moral flaw. pillowbookRated: Fiction T - English - Poetry - Chapters: 8 - Words: 1,035 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 2 - Updated: 06-01-10 - Published: 05-19-10 - id: 2808799
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
what does it really mean to love a boy?
is it anything like washing dishes? because
I don't do dishes. or is it more like music
the good kind, that get you through a
bad trip? what does it mean when I
can't breath because he is close, why
does his name come out of my pen
over and over when it is nothing
new? does love make everything
brighter and louder, is it because
the sun knows? everything is
bright, and he has my hand.s in him.
and I am home in this place,
in this place that is his
hand.s in mine.
I count on times
like that to keep me.
the freeway is 90 miles deep,
unlight and rough along Reseda.
don't let them tell not to
believe! they don't want ..
me, just a little
past noon on the crazy clock.