August 2011
1 post
3 tags
Where
This is where it stands. This is where it, stands like palm drops on evening hands, greased upon piles of shredded notes bespoke, unspoken. Like whispers in dreams, all of this much like crispies and kremes, much like those beaded eyes, surprised by the delight that you, yes you were the sunlight that blinded my sight.
In the case of bad dreams may arrest I put the palms, face-palms through my...
