in my cupboard, and you're an unapologetic ode
to the skies, purple as they were on our walks.
I think you and I should live our lives on the road -
we're far too large to fit into a singular space.
Your hair curls around every edge and cracked
corner of my dreams, and it never leaves a trace.
Your joy follows me into the fog like a hazy fact,
and I dread the day when it will drift away.
Are you and I strong enough to fight the world,
will we be able to stand still and not sway?
My hair flying straight in the wind, yours curled.
The cityscape is drenched, it looks raggedy new,
and I wonder if you know that I dream about you.
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