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Submitted on
October 13, 2013
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I'm pouring the lake at you again;
to speak the river and swill the crick with you 
where all waters flow to and they've crowned you
would find our what-if miracles in a far-off land 
in empty bottles under swollen rocks
trickling caves, island curtains and lighthouses
with us so divided by the waves;

let's find our thrones and bind the world to our ankles
with roots and swim regardless
then spree hardship so
our eyes will be just foam in the grace of what they see 
as the sun sets and we sing each others' worlds 
to forget each others' names.
:iconglossolalias:
"crick"

i just missed my ex a little. goddamnit. 
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:iconwataqo:
Wataqo Oct 14, 2013   Writer
lo siento
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