Tuesday, April 19, 2011


when my hands aren't busy they trace lines up and down your spine. and i watch you breathe and fish for your long fingers with my own beneath the covers. sometimes i say i love you i love you, over and over - but you just lay there. i'm tired of my words echoing in your silence, so now instead of speaking we lay in bed until the mountain’s shadow is upon the city. you're restless and anxious. i could waste away forever here, but not with you.

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