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• Artiste: Christians And Lions
• Titre: Some Trees
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Autrement, nous ne pouvons les corriger pas! Merci pour votre aide.
Hitting and missing, (mostly missing,) I sit kissing where your face was an hour before. Both spell disaster with some kind of far-off capital L. But I'll never say it, dear. Like tossing bread at the bird in the park; it's not going to help anything anyway, or make anything go faster. And I've been sure that she'd be this ghost that she'd never meet, that I'd find her dragging dumb luck down cold nor'easter streets. But I've fallen into your arms like a collapsed prizefighter, and so far I'm crawling this year like it's going stale. Braced to embrace, I'm all sick-grins in (Break my jaw on a Goodnight, I slip grins in,) the corner of the living room, back of the kitchen, (the back of the hallway, the back of the kitchen,) and tonight I'm wrapping myself in linens like gauze and staunching thoughts from running where they ought not to run. I'm not lost, I could slow it down, but I Doubt I can--I can't stop. (Well, gosh, it's hot. I want a body where my head is finally the top.)