She read his mind once, On an orange couch He spoke of sand castles and she realized Sand castles were perfect for him Orange couches and chili peppers and camcorders Ironic how he bruised her with eyeshadow once Later he touched her, somewhere, But was it the Moon, the sweatshirt, or the sandcastles? Paint from the ceiling bleeds on her shirt; Windowsill graveyards Hubcabs are ashtrays; She sits on the ladder, pencil in hair Bruised but not eyeshadow sandcastles Reading his mind She sees waves Four full moons later He hasn't admitted she read his mind She has visions laying under the stars Which bleed on her shirt Dreams of rape calico cats and orange couches Eyeshadow stardust can't hide her bruises Smoke's in the air from the hubcap Filling her lungs Numbing her heart Reading his mind She sees waves
Reason for writing:
for Dan, of course.
Birth sign: Not entered
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