It's too cloudy, again, to see the stars. And if there's one thing about me I can't say hello without a tremble I can't say goodbye and reassemble I don't know what that says about me. But I still stare out the window hoping you really didn't leave.
The Delicately exquisite touch One pattern after the other Soft symmetry laced one in one Tight pulse of fixation Don't let go Longing to linger, The small Warmth of trust.
have my colours stained your lips? can you still taste me in pastel traces of fingerprints that ring your neck, a collar to restrain you from painting over another girl with your corrupt palette.