my fists are balled and my throat is glassy from screaming myself hoarse at the stars/
i tell them to fall so a wish i make might come true/
that all i want to do is give you my eyes/and a caffeine youth/
find the friends that make you happy/maybe even kiss a laugh into your lips/
boy, i want you to be just a little bit messy/
your cold arms warmed by memories/the skin of your teeth sweet and blue/the mellow of your voice stains my ears so dirty/
paper pebbles and sea shells/i'll make you an artificial paradise/be the gold hatted lover you dream of in your sleep/when your fingertips weave a cloud of hazy thoughts/
and maybe i'll even make you fly
YOU ARE READING
tyrants
Poetrythe kind of love i've been dreaming of 2018 - 2023 #29 in poetry, 2nd april 2023 #56 in prose, 23rd may 2019 #16 in non fiction, 6th april 2023
