Little Lingerings by nightowlsruleearth, literature
Literature
Little Lingerings
“Art,”
You said, when I asked why
The simple flesh of a girl so beautiful
Who simply wasn’t me
Was etched upon your mind.
“Why?”
You said, when tears fell
From eyes closed to fear and death
Dreaming of places
Where fate did not exist
“How?”
You asked, when I looked
For the suitcase to run away
To places where the light touches
The feet of the footwashers
“Never.”
You uttered, smooth as French vanilla cream
When I asked a simple question of whether
I was crazy enough
To drive you away.