HOME | DD

Description
she feels really warm, especially when it's cold, and i need a hug
so i get close to her, and feel her skin pressing onto mine,
securing the picked locks and rusted river banks of entire thought processes
sadly, she only chooses the ones ending in exclamation points
as if my being wasn't enough. that's how it feels sometimes.
and when she comments it's like clouds part. but clouds don't really part,
they move in one direction like herds of elephants and unfortunetly
the elephant man is what came about. what an upsetting thought. (she likes that)
i slow down when she cant ketchup she scrambles my eggs even though
she's a woman, but she hurries up and leaves me behind when i'm out of breath
i can't follow up because her performance was absolutly immaculate.
we don't finish each other's sentences but her hugs fill me entirely
and her fingers touch my face because she can't see it clearly she's trying to make out
the frowns and wrinkles, i'm so glad her sense of touch is almost dead it give me an advantage.
because it's survival of the fittest when you're dealing with anthing remotely close to love
and if you think hard enough you'll know it's not love, it's dealing with blank slates
and kissing and hugging, and fingers in un-name-able places and unfinished thoughts (her favorite kind)

Description
she feels really warm, especially when it's cold, and i need a hug
so i get close to her, and feel her skin pressing onto mine,
securing the picked locks and rusted river banks of entire thought processes
sadly, she only chooses the ones ending in exclamation points
as if my being wasn't enough. that's how it feels sometimes.
and when she comments it's like clouds part. but clouds don't really part,
they move in one direction like herds of elephants and unfortunetly
the elephant man is what came about. what an upsetting thought. (she likes that)
i slow down when she cant ketchup she scrambles my eggs even though
she's a woman, but she hurries up and leaves me behind when i'm out of breath
i can't follow up because her performance was absolutly immaculate.
we don't finish each other's sentences but her hugs fill me entirely
and her fingers touch my face because she can't see it clearly she's trying to make out
the frowns and wrinkles, i'm so glad her sense of touch is almost dead it give me an advantage.
because it's survival of the fittest when you're dealing with anthing remotely close to love
and if you think hard enough you'll know it's not love, it's dealing with blank slates
and kissing and hugging, and fingers in un-name-able places and unfinished thoughts (her favorite kind)