they say i speak like poetry
but they don't hear what i hear
my boyfriend doesn't know i talk to myself
the guilty pleasure i seek on a Saturday
id love to know what others talk about
i love the girls on television, they catch my attention
when I'm older i will wish i did this, or fixed that
i think a lot of things
where are the quiet places?
the ones that leak years from my eyes
the endless amount of birds
the tallest of weeping trees
what do you think i see?
a lovely alone house?
or a man?
YOU ARE READING
soft porn magazine
Poetry'baby come on over, come on over to my side well i may not live past twenty one, but, what a way to die' the pleasure seekers
