ipod nights

i have visions of the last page being filled, mad-spectacle thoughts ont he texture of your thighs the calm of laying on a sofa, your head in the nook of my underarms how we watch films and shows byt eh season while my fingers trace the outline of your body
and
coarsly, odd as overtures, falling in love with you is so easy.

2003-11-20 | 6:49 p.m.
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