She sits down next to me and runs her little hand through my hair, I ask her where she's been and she shakes her pretty head in slow motion. Her skin smells like a Tuscan meadow. "I never mean to hurt people" she says. "I just do".
Monday, February 9, 2015
Da Capo
She's back! It's after two on Sunday night
when the lights come on in the kitchen, I'm in bed with the fumes from
my fourth Mai Tai (heartbeat frequency: hummingbird wings). Instead of
piano scales I hear her clicking heels and she steps out of them and in
to the bedroom in her burgundy velvet dress.
She sits down next to me and runs her little hand through my hair, I ask her where she's been and she shakes her pretty head in slow motion. Her skin smells like a Tuscan meadow. "I never mean to hurt people" she says. "I just do".
She sits down next to me and runs her little hand through my hair, I ask her where she's been and she shakes her pretty head in slow motion. Her skin smells like a Tuscan meadow. "I never mean to hurt people" she says. "I just do".
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