March 16, 2016

a zipper tightens across my lips each time my eyes lock with yours for my brain becomes a puddle and the world around us comes to a halt

a sensation that can only be described as frolicking through a Lisa frank store on acid — whose owner probably does entirely too much adderall

somehow you’ve turned cloud 9 into a succinct letter I could transform into like 4 million bars or something

you could be anywhere in the world and my heart would still long for you

I could meet every man on this planet, but in the end none of them would be you


ps. warm up ny for me, but in the meantime just reach over and hit the lights please.

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