Don't take me from him, he's my last little shade from the sun
before it scorches me into my vampirical death.
I find it way easier to sink my head into his chest and
in between his knees than to
sleep with the possibility of nightmares stripping me and killing me.
I'd rather get lost into the traffic jam that is he,
than to deal with possible sores on my feet, where I may have tried running after another.
CITEȘTI
SUNSHOWERS
Non-ficțiuneA book of poetry. A book of tears. A book of blood and sweat, too. A book to hold me. Will you let it hold me?
