my fingers tasted like pencils
the day i found your old shirts.
and i remember the sand from your pockets
you put there to keep safe
when i said i wished that i could fly.
you hoped for rain and lightening,
but promised to build me some wings.
image by xxbrenchyxx from here
3 comments:
Undefined undefined.
You don't reply.
You'll lose your readerbase.
dude.
help me get rid of that undefined crap.
i don't even know where it came from.
in other news.
i don't know how to even respond to a majority of your comments.
they are usually rhymes or answers to rhetorical questions.
but here's your gosh durned reply.
love you, steve.
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