Oct 2014
There are stories in your eyes.
I never told you how
sometimes I fell asleep
with the thought that you
were perhaps the moon-
always disappearing
with the dawn.
I never told you how
sometimes I fell asleep
with the thought that you
were perhaps the moon-
always disappearing
with the dawn.
I would awake with
nothing
but the shape of you
on my bed and the
gloom of you on
my skin.
nothing
but the shape of you
on my bed and the
gloom of you on
my skin.
