You pass me a note folded into a cat’s cradle and stroke my chipped Milky Way nail polish as I accept it.
I, too, have known the metallic clang of silver soup spoon on steel-wrapped bars.
I’m silently exclaiming it right now: “Bewp!”
Outwardly health-conscious girl secretly binge-eats Thin Mints while listening to Natalie Imbruglia. Relatable.
Frank, thank you for keeping your light attuned to a phosphorescent glow that lingers.
I don’t wanna see that
You creepin’ up behind me
Like a slinky-dinky