because they hit like ****** on a friday night. when my blanket has had enough of reassuring my anxious mind it's your lovely phantom that hugs me then: a figment of my pleasant longing for your hands and the way they hug mine.
sleep with me. maybe we'll wake up sat on a for-two caddy parked across the hanging end of a moonlit prairie. we'll toss the keys to our locked embrace until the sun finds us and throws them back.