Storyteller in scrubs. Mainly poetry and patient stories.
the way you held meon the platformwaiting for a trainthat would take us homebecause your casa is my casamade me realisei had never been heldlike this in public beforeand your armsbecame my armsand we both cradledthe love i thoughti didn’t deserve
i listen to the birds and clattering of forks and knives people eating in the gardens
the wind has torn a piece of the flag on the square building in the distance
my head rests on the balustrade as i watch the ashes of my cigarette scatter to the wind
i’m out therecollecting menlike pokemon cards
swipe leftswipe right
i raised my standardssince you fucked with mebecause i learnedhow to fuck myself