I hope he’s sleeping in
in her arms
and lazily making love
and having breakfast
and all of that.
I hope that.
Yeah, it hurts.
But it hurts a whole lot more
to imagine him lonely.
Proximity: the poet Jackson. Get uncomfortably close.
I hope he’s sleeping in
in her arms
and lazily making love
and having breakfast
and all of that.
I hope that.
Yeah, it hurts.
But it hurts a whole lot more
to imagine him lonely.