C-L-S

I read your writing

I study your art

everyones

everyones

everyones.

I read things

and study the names at the bottom

wondering about the life.

Growing up isn't something you enjoy

Unless you're, like,

Five,

And the world is still golden,

And you can't see

The hourglass

And the grains of sand

Falling

Falling

I know it's wrong 

But I'm dreaming of your eyes

I'm cursing to myself 

But I'm drowning in their lies

Your voice is deafening like a lullaby 

Your beauty is blinding like the dark

I’m most likely

To climb a mountain

And not want to go back down.

I’m most likely

To say things I shouldn’t

And not regret them

I regret not running to you

Yet I regret running to you then but

Now it's behind me

I think of how we talk

Of how we laugh, then 

I pick apart every word