tongue across lips, my own
to taste yours, soft, a trace, hint of blue
but i forget, now.. how it felt
hold my thought
smile, sleeping eyes are
so beautiful but i'm.. just
rambling words spilled from within tired subconcious (concious?)
lest we not pretend that
you would love to be with..
i am not an ideal, i am.. tired
ideals.. worry me with
trivial matters such as..
last trace of sanity dangling by
invisible thread slips away.. i'll still love you as
pelicans fall all around