A blot of lonely on the rain-torn street.
Old
and brooding.
Weary.
My love!
But let the storm beat down on you—
I cannot come
to button up your coat.
...Why?
I sleep, and can’t remember.
Jan 18, 2020
Jan 18, 2020 at 12:13 AM UTC
A blot of lonely on the rain-torn street.
Old
and brooding.
Weary.
My love!
But let the storm beat down on you—
I cannot come
to button up your coat.
...Why?
I sleep, and can’t remember.