One day we won't have this skin.
Our bright eyes may even sink.
Without Summer days,
or our cheap wine for veins.
Though we had coming things,
though we had dreams,
we couldn't know.
The past only a day ago,
then two years to four.
Eight seemed a ways,
now,
A decades erased.
Time seems the slope,
too steep to be paved.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 2:30 AM UTC
One day we won't have this skin.
Our bright eyes may even sink.
Without Summer days,
or our cheap wine for veins.
Though we had coming things,
though we had dreams,
we couldn't know.
The past only a day ago,
then two years to four.
Eight seemed a ways,
now,
A decades erased.
Time seems the slope,
too steep to be paved.
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