(Untitled)
the sun highlights my loss
and points through the window as if to remind me
a shirt folding its arms
like a child refusing to tell that
most deepest darkest secret -
Where is he?
sits at the end of my bed
Your smell is there
the perfect ratio of soap to sweat
I can't bring myself to wash you out of it
and the sun knows it
~original
and points through the window as if to remind me
a shirt folding its arms
like a child refusing to tell that
most deepest darkest secret -
Where is he?
sits at the end of my bed
Your smell is there
the perfect ratio of soap to sweat
I can't bring myself to wash you out of it
and the sun knows it
~original
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