Your lips were a pinch of color smeared on a blank canvas
And I wanted nothing but to find the exact hue.
I clung to you like the know is clinging to the branches,
But I'll melt away eventually.
Your voice was like the melancholy tone of my old guitar,
I adored the sound but I always wanted more.
You and I, we are like cups of water.
People drink us when they need to feel clean,
They drink us when they need to feel satisfied.
They use us in recipes and to cleanse their bodies.
But never are we their favorite drink.
You are the water to my body.
You make up 75% of me.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
Your lips were a pinch of color smeared on a blank canvas
And I wanted nothing but to find the exact hue.
I clung to you like the know is clinging to the branches,
But I'll melt away eventually.
Your voice was like the melancholy tone of my old guitar,
I adored the sound but I always wanted more.
You and I, we are like cups of water.
People drink us when they need to feel clean,
They drink us when they need to feel satisfied.
They use us in recipes and to cleanse their bodies.
But never are we their favorite drink.
You are the water to my body.
You make up 75% of me.
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