The rain washed the dirt off the balcony, and coffee stains sank into the table. My arms were sore and my breath was gone. I cupped my hands around the warm mug but for what? Coffee is no consolation.
The sun shone over the park and my partner rolled over in his bed across the room.
Breakfast in Manhattan.
Lunch in Central Park.
I don't have energy for all of these hours.
3 comments:
as gorgeous as always.
your writing, much like golfrapps music is filled with such imagery.
ah, i love it. come see me sooon ;]
xxx
you're my favorite<3
this is one of my favorites.
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