there's something about you,
but sometimes i still can't help but think
that i'm prettier on my knees.

my memory always flash flashes
back to nights of rolled up dollar bills
and vitamin c bottles, magic mushrooms
and make-shift bongs, empty bottles
and "hey there baby, lookin' good" cat calls.

you've said my name four times in your sleep,
wrapped in blue cotton layers, your breathing heavy -
yet just as faint as i was when you rescued me.

there's just something about you:
the crinkles at the corners of your eyes
and the way your beard grows in patches.
and oh god, the way you look at me.

it's ironic because
i use to hallucinate in black and white.
and now sober, with you by my side,
i see in colour.