Wednesday, 13 May 2015
I'm going to San Fran but my hair's too short for flowers
I've been leaving since we met. My house is empty and I've a milk crate for a table. I'm flush with cash yet I'm just not able to anchor my heart. My bags are eternally half packed but that's partly because I never unpack them. You see, this city is too cold for me. Too wet. And your heart just a little too full. There are oceans in those eyes of yours and their tides how strong they pull. I never really got used to swimming. It's the unenduring shore where the waves break that I prefer. It's safe. There's no chance of getting tired. I could drown in you.