You were poetry in a dark hallway whispering to know me in a psychotic way the way your neck tattoos straddle my throat I’m envious of every girl you’ve ever known.
You were the best and worst nights of my life fucking while the flames lick us at least you’re a distraction from my spiritual death. You’re a god damn angel in a crack den.
It’s those Saturday mornings laughing underneath the sheets its a glimpse of everything I dreamed that makes me feel hope for us. Saturdays could be our thing.
We are survivors we glisten in the sun for all the nights I died alone I did not know another woman carried my song and it is beautiful now look what we have become.
