Here
Here
We’re holding hands
And
Its nice being here again
Where we’re good.
The problems of “you” and “me”
Are the problems of “us”,
And we’re okay with that, here.
Your skin smells
Of almond
(like always),
And I steal a sniff
And smile wide,
Simultaneously.
We’ll walk
Fingers still locked,
Palms fighting the truth,
And spend all day
With light conversation,
Spilling from eager mouths
All at a tempo we can’t possibly keep.
We’ll finally saunter
Into the night,
Pulled into reality
And I’ll drop your hand
Because here –
I hate how you insist
On shoving stars
And you find me weak
For being addicted
To burdens
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You’re currently reading “Here,” an entry on S. Minor Creatively
- Published:
- March 25, 2012 / 8:51 pm
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