We fly our kites at night
in the river of light flowing from the moon
down to our skin.
The crisp summer air cuts along our arms
as we fly along,
tripping on our love.
You raise yr skinny fists like antennas to the heavens
praying this night will never end.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC
We fly our kites at night
in the river of light flowing from the moon
down to our skin.
The crisp summer air cuts along our arms
as we fly along,
tripping on our love.
You raise yr skinny fists like antennas to the heavens
praying this night will never end.
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