6 am at the creek

water holds no memory, my dear you'll forget about me tomorrow but i won't the wholeness of my being encapsulated in your body of water will stain the blanket of my memory like coffee-stained bedsheets at 2 in the morning too intoxicated with slumber to clean the mess and so i just leave it there body draped across the bed with a mind and soul aching to rest.

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Written by

glasslungs

21 / jupiter

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