We sat next to each other and dissected poems
My chest was shaking in the center where my tattoos almost touch
I would like more time
My poems were loved
I was loved
I showed you how to pull at your hair right
I told you what to imagine
I missed you and we talked too fast
All my poems are shades of grey
I am the the industrial streets
You will leave
You will come back when you’re sick of sitting
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
We sat next to each other and dissected poems
My chest was shaking in the center where my tattoos almost touch
I would like more time
My poems were loved
I was loved
I showed you how to pull at your hair right
I told you what to imagine
I missed you and we talked too fast
All my poems are shades of grey
I am the the industrial streets
You will leave
You will come back when you’re sick of sitting