no, no, enough with them!
let’s go to bed and wake up
soft with the sun
and sleepy with the moon on soft sheets
saturday night’s alright for fighting, for playing in the streetlights, for laying awake and whispering, for being with you
in cambridge i watch light peer through windows, and i think of you, always
my nostalgia, everreal in this city; a sinking anchor in the charles
i pretend to not notice the small blush blossoming on my cheeks, the smile pulling at my lip when i stand on cement sidewalks again, marveling at how busy the world can be
in contrast, the quiet wood of concord held solemn thoughts of worlds once known, of brick houses and plastered cellars, and beyond that
a world before settlers and borders and so many trees
i write for walden pond, a land of buried dreams, since water never forgets
for the sunlit roof deck on top of harvard, where you can see the whole world; the small winding roads, the ivy wrapped around trees,
for the bus rides between universes, stories, and loves
so keep this, something sweet for your mind when you wake up, as you spend lazy hours in bed, and your plants reach new heights (because you will keep growing along with them)
and know when the yellow moon is swollen outside your windows, i’ll be thinking of you too, love
Sep 11, 2021
Sep 11, 2021 at 4:07 PM UTC
no, no, enough with them!
let’s go to bed and wake up
soft with the sun
and sleepy with the moon on soft sheets
saturday night’s alright for fighting, for playing in the streetlights, for laying awake and whispering, for being with you
in cambridge i watch light peer through windows, and i think of you, always
my nostalgia, everreal in this city; a sinking anchor in the charles
i pretend to not notice the small blush blossoming on my cheeks, the smile pulling at my lip when i stand on cement sidewalks again, marveling at how busy the world can be
in contrast, the quiet wood of concord held solemn thoughts of worlds once known, of brick houses and plastered cellars, and beyond that
a world before settlers and borders and so many trees
i write for walden pond, a land of buried dreams, since water never forgets
for the sunlit roof deck on top of harvard, where you can see the whole world; the small winding roads, the ivy wrapped around trees,
for the bus rides between universes, stories, and loves
so keep this, something sweet for your mind when you wake up, as you spend lazy hours in bed, and your plants reach new heights (because you will keep growing along with them)
and know when the yellow moon is swollen outside your windows, i’ll be thinking of you too, love