There are stories in your eyes.
I never told you how
sometimes I fell asleep
with the thought that you
were perhaps the moon-
always disappearing
I would awake with
nothing
but the shape of you
on my bed and the
gloom of you on
my skin.
There are stories in your eyes.
I never told you how
sometimes I fell asleep
with the thought that you
were perhaps the moon-
always disappearing
I would awake with
nothing
but the shape of you
on my bed and the
gloom of you on
my skin.
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