Time of death - 4:37 p.m. That's what the pocket watch will say when it craters at the bottom of the Santana River. She said I had to keep it in my pocket so I never forgot to make tike for her. Little did I know she had none left to give me. This is where we met. Seems fitting to end it here.
Maybe we'll both sink into the miry clay til finger kisses fingertip, and be joined in a way we never managed above this rickety, old, romantic harbor.
Maybe we'll both sink into the miry clay til finger kisses fingertip, and be joined in a way we never managed above this rickety, old, romantic harbor.
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