At the Blue Swallow Motel, I could’ve been in love with her. We’d sit down on leather bar stools, pretend like we were a couple
From on top of the roof, I hope you distill me into heady gaze as uncompromising as a codeine problem. Sometimes things are all right.
The air was one heavy sigh, pleased, floral, musical breath. Clingy, before that would’ve bothered me. I’m wearing my eighth grade formal dress, have discovered