Untitled – 2016

I felt like writing to you,

but deafened the urge.

So now I sit in loneliness

awaiting your call.

 

I can’t remember your voice,

but you must’ve sound like

an angel,

because the haloesque vision of you

can’t seem to dim.

 

You’re the drug I want to kick off

on.

The memory in that drunken song.

You’re my locked up elephant

I dare never to speak off.

 

You’re the broken windshield

that doesn’t annoy me anymore.

The dangers are just around the corner,

I’m living life on a western edge.

 

A first world problem:

I would put myself on a diet for you,

but you wouldn’t even notice

in those jeans.

So there you leave.

Too early for breakfast,

too late to call it a night.

You look even better with a hangover.

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