You utter this word every time you leave. Your perfume lingers, but you do not. You are cut off by the slam of the door you shut behind you.
You and I, we have never said goodbye. Even though the sneaky word escapes our lips sometimes.
But, no more! For from Death, I am reclaiming custody of Goodbye and this romantic notion of “only in death do we say goodbye” I will happily trade for her.
She may have snored like _a trooper_, made tea _super bitter_, been _a looter_ .… but we never should have given her up.
We have never said goodbye. But I want to start.
I want to look into your eyes and ...
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 6:14 AM UTC
I love you like a plant
loves rainy days
but you
are too grey a cloud
for me to plant
myself under
arm me
with an umbrella
and a raincoat
then only shall I go
searching for love
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 5:04 PM UTC