It doesn't matter who painted it
It was already ours
The second it was formed
This sky of orange and pink
Dripping down
Casting amber light on your face
You look like every perfume ad
Smiling is a language not based around letters or sound
We know every word of it
And touch our lips together often to learn the hip new slang of the day
Sometimes we walk hand in hand
Down extremely busy streets
With no one but us to speak of
Your elaborately manicured nails reflecting the passing buildings
And street signs
Days feel like minutes, or centuries, but rarely twenty four hours
We don't notice anyway, desensitized to time by the years we were content to spend in each other's arms
If the morning light were to peek through the blinds and see all this dissolved in the blink of an eye
I would plaster my windows shut, seal every seam with glue
Just to stay under a vanilla sky with you
Feb 14
Feb 14, 2026 at 6:46 AM UTC
It doesn't matter who painted it
It was already ours
The second it was formed
This sky of orange and pink
Dripping down
Casting amber light on your face
You look like every perfume ad
Smiling is a language not based around letters or sound
We know every word of it
And touch our lips together often to learn the hip new slang of the day
Sometimes we walk hand in hand
Down extremely busy streets
With no one but us to speak of
Your elaborately manicured nails reflecting the passing buildings
And street signs
Days feel like minutes, or centuries, but rarely twenty four hours
We don't notice anyway, desensitized to time by the years we were content to spend in each other's arms
If the morning light were to peek through the blinds and see all this dissolved in the blink of an eye
I would plaster my windows shut, seal every seam with glue
Just to stay under a vanilla sky with you
