You are restless black tea,
swimming in a teacup,
of a breakfast in bed,
waiting for sheets;
freshly clean and white on mattress,
to recklessly tip over.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Melancholy Melodies
Let's pretend that you suffer,
a terminal illness,
highly contagious.
Come now,
let's kiss.
a terminal illness,
highly contagious.
Come now,
let's kiss.
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