the refreshing taste of nicotine smoke
and orange juice at four in the morning
the fabulous eeriness
of late night/early morning
children's tv
and the first few beams of sunlight
slipping through half-closed curtains
keep my round bleeding eyes awake.
recordings of clandestine utterances from
your sunny south european villa and
torn letters of a forgotten mutual adoration
cluttered on a wooden desk
with hidden drawers and keyboard pillows
discarded stationery and wet pictures
a white screen showing
a trashbox full of emo-esque e-mails
late night procrastination
and twilight justification
there's only so many times you can stare at the ceiling
and hope for fluffy clouds and flawless explanations
and no confusion or illogical emotions
life is never fair
you whispered intimately in my ear
as you cuddled me close and
told me everything
was gonna be alright
six weeks of hot sun
must have got to your fickle mind
and only stars orbit him, now
----
ick, this is rather "emo". I'd appreciate it if you could lessen some of the stupidly melodramatic parts.
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Reviews: 1259