like chalk, paper and ink
we dip ourselves
in blue crystal water
"it's only summer" I mumble
these feet refuse to move even an inch
whilst you stroke the walls :pastel
the peaches tell one story
mahogany greens the other
bedsheets are rest wrinkled and you're the one
to blame
soft pavements, untouched, virgin floor
doughs call out our names
toiling beneath sheets, until the stars bow down
living a pluto life
unbothered by wars and battles
sorrows and failures
and the inevitable wretchedness of futures we behold
aimlessly wandering into orange lights
away from the awful whites.
No comments:
Post a Comment