Some people sing. Some people write. Some people blow a trumpet. Some people are silent. Some people shout. Some people joke. Some people cry. And we all just go along.
i can feel the
nerves on
the skin of my legs
vibrate
at the thought
of you walking
through the door
because i
loved the part
where we fell asleep
entangled in
one another
and the part where
we never woke up