The clouds always seem different in the morning air, It’s as though the night morphed their colors into shades I’ve never seen,
By Louis Dobson3 years ago in Poets
You’re in my car humming our song, I’m sitting on the pavement staring at the crystal sky, You tattooed a star on your wrist,
The thin blanket draped over her but did little to keep her warm, She’s the unlucky one, All her dresses and felt cushions don’t fulfil her the way she tells him they do,