...sitting by the sofa, bought in a fit of unfocused ambition
So open this book. Read.
I break with my hand, that wraps around fingers
How your eyes dissolve the melancholy of nights staring up
I tore it open and removed every book
Here you may live a hundred hollow dark years.
But your feet made such rude remarks to the wait-staff.
"You can come in, but you have to replace what you break."
Blurring and delineating your face in the darkness of memory.
The best it can do is bite me.