Petrichor

Page 78

It is a longing 

A desire, that I shouldn't 

Speak of- but I must. 

Echoes of you are 

Reverberating inside of me 

I cannot think of 

Philosophy. 

I think of us together

I think of you

Holding me,

Strong arms that cradle 

Guitars and hold on 

Tight, that walk dogs

And fight. 

Rough around the edges;

And crumpled inside. 

But I can't be shy 

Anymore.