Once, for maybe less than a night, our conversations felt like a selfish pleasure.
We tiptoed gallantly with these ardent fife that colored our tongues something true.
If your eyes were elevators I want you to let them go,
carnival rides play the hearts of children,
just let them go, and spin, let them go.
I apologize if you spill something, something harsh, it’s probably true.
You can trust me. I’ll smile and kiss your cheek; I’m sure it’s a bank vault, it must be.
I just hope that when you t...