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every time my phone dings that chime I set, our patterend steps have been evenly paced but sometimes i miss a few, just so our hands won’t graze — a metronome back and forth. though I’d still steal a glance from it: soft fingers on keys, light wrist on the right beat, slender palms fit in my sweater sleeve. wondering, how quickly it can thaw the frost in mine; and before my boiling belly boil over surrendering the mistletoe nose; how many are missing the same warmth I have yet to hold.
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Nov 20, 2019
Nov 20, 2019 at 9:25 AM UTC
Marimba
every time my phone dings that chime I set, our patterend steps have been evenly paced but sometimes i miss a few, just so our hands won’t graze — a metronome back and forth. though I’d still steal a glance from it: soft fingers on keys, light wrist on the right beat, slender palms fit in my sweater sleeve. wondering, how quickly it can thaw the frost in mine; and before my boiling belly boil over surrendering the mistletoe nose; how many are missing the same warmth I have yet to hold.
so much warmth in for the last days of autumn. it’s my favorite season despite not experiencing it in my country. i guess we can really miss the things that was never ours— or not yet, at least. thanks for reading a.s.
amorphous-scintilla
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Nov 20, 2019
Nov 20, 2019 at 9:25 AM UTC
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