in the morning, my eyes will be tired and droop like my shoulders from the blue-ish escape of my screen. in the morning, my elbows will ache from my propped chin as i listened to the light soar of your lips and the quick flight of your fingers.
in the night, i will do the exact same, and although my fingers will shake on the curve of the mug's handle, i will do it all again.
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 10:48 PM UTC
in the morning, my eyes will be tired and droop like my shoulders from the blue-ish escape of my screen. in the morning, my elbows will ache from my propped chin as i listened to the light soar of your lips and the quick flight of your fingers.
in the night, i will do the exact same, and although my fingers will shake on the curve of the mug's handle, i will do it all again.
- but how could i not?
a love letter and confession to the girl who twisted stormy
clouds into sunshine and my heart into molded clay, soft
between her fingers and protected by the curve of her lips
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