I live in a box
Full of yellowed papers
And a kitchen half-painted
Viridian green.
My little house
Always smells of your coffee
Because tea for one
Is lonely in the morning.
I draw the curtains sometimes
And crawl in that queen-sized bed,
Confessing all my secrets
Beneath our tent of sheets.
If they could bottle you
I would add a slice of lime
And drink you dry,
My Communion.
I come home each night
Carrying you across the threshold,
And we play hide and seek
From the world outside.
Apr 9, 2011
Apr 9, 2011 at 12:00 PM UTC
I live in a box
Full of yellowed papers
And a kitchen half-painted
Viridian green.
My little house
Always smells of your coffee
Because tea for one
Is lonely in the morning.
I draw the curtains sometimes
And crawl in that queen-sized bed,
Confessing all my secrets
Beneath our tent of sheets.
If they could bottle you
I would add a slice of lime
And drink you dry,
My Communion.
I come home each night
Carrying you across the threshold,
And we play hide and seek
From the world outside.