I wonder how it is you get your smell on me;
so effortlessly, fill my lungs with you.
for what seems, like days, sometimes.
you never wear a shirt, when I'm around.
even when I have little intention of
breaking you off. as they say.
California has been hot, for
weeks. and its turned your skin red.
and its got me writing, bad poetry.
and I wonder what life would be like,
together, if we were both. whole.
and went to bed, at appropriate times.
(and fucked appropriate people)
and if we didn't constantly,
consistently, fall in love with eachother every time.
(I know you only like to fuck me when other people are around)