Things aren't always black and white.
Actally, almost never.
There's more to you,
Then meets the eye.
More to me, then the gold hair,
Whispering to you,
Through the wind.
I belive,
That sometimes,
I'm too much.
Too
Much
L
o
v
e
I've only got a year
Let me,
And I'll let you.
a symphony of saxophone and jazzy drums plays
for a crowd of men in wide collared shirts and women in boxy dresses
in their hands are drinks
martinis and manhattans
with glistening ice cubes inside their glasses
we're so close.
I am wrapped in the touch of another
suspended in a state of contentment
and soft safety.
the lights in my room are warm
and in the mirror
where the soft grass meets the sea
is where you'll find her
for eternity now.
young and alive in vivid shades
of every color
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