my dearest darling,
when i die under the sun,
when the space next to you feels emptier,
when the carrier pigeons stop their run,
i want you to feel,
the colder morning skies
and the softer evening tunes.
i want it to hurt,
to feel bounded to carry on
to like other women and to think of me,
because at least i’ll know it mean something,
when the moon no longer shines over home.
Aug 17, 2022
Aug 17, 2022 at 2:06 PM UTC
my dearest darling,
when i die under the sun,
when the space next to you feels emptier,
when the carrier pigeons stop their run,
i want you to feel,
the colder morning skies
and the softer evening tunes.
i want it to hurt,
to feel bounded to carry on
to like other women and to think of me,
because at least i’ll know it mean something,
when the moon no longer shines over home.