A breeze through an open window
Afternoon light falls between the curtains
Shivering craves the warmth of the sun
It doesn't reach
It never reaches
Am I too far down to hear its song?
Or does it just call in a faint voice
on that breeze, in that light?
As I listen I remind myself of red hair, blue eyes.
And like the words carved into her wrist
I will continue.
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 3:13 PM UTC
A breeze through an open window
Afternoon light falls between the curtains
Shivering craves the warmth of the sun
It doesn't reach
It never reaches
Am I too far down to hear its song?
Or does it just call in a faint voice
on that breeze, in that light?
As I listen I remind myself of red hair, blue eyes.
And like the words carved into her wrist
I will continue.