This morning you looked down
and your coffee cup was a cave.
Last night I looked up--
everywhere, masks of owls.
It was beneath a bath of cold stars
that you told me about doom.
You said,
It feels like a pit.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
This morning you looked down
and your coffee cup was a cave.
Last night I looked up--
everywhere, masks of owls.
It was beneath a bath of cold stars
that you told me about doom.
You said,
It feels like a pit.
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