makes me think
of our talks
when we'd sneak
away in the dark
to get lost in
each other's words
there was none
of this silence
every little thought
would spill out
uninterrupted and
willing
sometimes my
voice would become
yours and you
would finish where
I had left off
and if we had gone
to a palm reader
I bet they wouldn't
have known whose hand
was whose
you always
gave me perspective
and I hope I
always gave you
hope
when our talks
felt like music
No comments:
Post a Comment