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Isolated

Don’t ask me to explain the science of religion again,

I’m pretty, and I’m petty,

pressing my lips against yours until you can no longer speak,

and I’m at peace,

because everything is quiet,

everyone is absent, except for you and me.

You make me dinner,

hours after I fell asleep,

you never quite get it right,

which is fine,

because I find your imperfection endearing.

Waking up and crashing,

crushing on my constant spectre,

and all the lies he tells,

all the pictures he paints,

that I hang inside my head.



This post first appeared on Jennifer Juan – Las Aventuras De La Princesa Rom, please read the originial post: here

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