The things I half-admitted
when you were half-asleep
were half-truths
of a whole drunken night.
I remember watching you
watch me from the bar balcony
and trying to find a reason
to deserve this summer season
in December,
where the people don't know
winter vernacular.
And something just feels off,
but maybe in a good way,
so i'll keep my mouth shut
the best that I can...
when every skin nerve cell
betrays my do-tell,
and displays it on my face
like a billboard to the world,
advertising a teen feel-sore movie and sneak preview.
Because I felt
the hours repeat
as we flew
across the sky,
and secretly I hoped
that the mountains would hold
the plane in time
so I could touch divine.
Never had I seen the sun
rise so dry
in a desert
and set wet
west over an ocean.
Every skin nerve cell
betrays my do-tell
and displays it on my face
like a billboard to the world,
compromising geographic affairs.
You know, I wish they could've left me there.
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