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At 5am you call me,
Tell me sorry for the secrets you enclosed on the nape of my neck and I will forgive you,
Hug my pillow tight and fight teardrops as they fall on the same sheets you made me your canvas and you will ask me how I feel.
I will remain silent for two stanzas until, it becomes deafening. But in my defense, talking to you was always a one way street. You will tell me to open up, just a little more, like my legs that wrapped around you before your idea of love .
Funny because, you trade in my vulnerability for fuel. Take it like a tool and use it to hoe amongst many gardens, because you were sick of farming with the frigid. And yes I'll admit it was a bit precocious to explore this situation of feelings and excuses, but who could refute the redundant nature of romance
Tell me sorry for the secrets you enclosed on the nape of my neck and I will forgive you,
Hug my pillow tight and fight teardrops as they fall on the same sheets you made me your canvas and you will ask me how I feel.
I will remain silent for two stanzas until, it becomes deafening. But in my defense, talking to you was always a one way street. You will tell me to open up, just a little more, like my legs that wrapped around you before your idea of love .
Funny because, you trade in my vulnerability for fuel. Take it like a tool and use it to hoe amongst many gardens, because you were sick of farming with the frigid. And yes I'll admit it was a bit precocious to explore this situation of feelings and excuses, but who could refute the redundant nature of romance
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