these thoughts are why i have no friends

Monday

Singing forks and original home owners.

The look in her eyes, remind me of the good times.

Front doors made out of wood, and door knobs made of peaches.

Original home owners have the key.

As good as dead, the basement door slams.

Just like late night rain loving the dawn’s lips.

She speaks only in the morning hours.

We hear the loud cry for love, when her limbs are numb.

Mountains and their rivers fall behind the midnight sky.

I see the dogs, they wink at the old man.

I see the men, they open the door for ladybugs.

I see the women, the look of stress sits upon her face.

I see the little children, the look of wonder light their eyes.

Soda, big nose, I love baby toes.

The sun seems to shine only when you smile.

Ants, purple pants, stop saying you can’t.

I want to drive with you for miles.

this is fucking awesome.

My life disappeared in front of me like a drop of honey in our love sea.

I hear your dark voice speak to me, but my eyes can’t open.

I taste your love on my tongue, I can feel the rush.

Replacing our favorite love songs with tears, and fears of being alone.

And when I close the front door, you aren’t home.