Sweet fluorescent evenings fight the spaces between your arms and mine. We're on the edge of something new. You're laying with wide eyes closed tight tonight while I'm watching the mist rise from the lake underneath a patchwork sky. I'd like to say this is all new to me but the truth is that it's repetition. Cycle me something better than us.I believe in your finger tips when they're spider webbing my shoulder. I'd love to show you Manhattan rooftops and water towers. The truth is, I don't even recognize the bloodshot eyes that stare back at me in the mirror lately. There is true contempt in these once broken eyes.
(l)earning your trust.
