Spiral staircases wind upward past the point where eyes can see
Ivory lined with copper, a room without echoes
The rooftop is lined with ivy and white wooden chairs
There are stories untold here
Eastern skies are painted pale cerulean and rose
A canvas that I captured with a mirror and a lens and the snap of a shutter
The tops of your fingers glide along my cheek
The air tastes clean and weightless
Summer will be leaving soon
The garden gleams like gold
Your eyes reflect the amber of the evening sun
I think we should stay here a while
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About Me
- jpalove
- Someday, we will just be stars in the sky. We will just be empty space. Someday, we will stop being nobodys and become nothing. Someday we will be stories, we will be words. Someday, nobody will remember what we looked like. Someday, all of our photographs will fade away. Someday, it will be as though we never existed. (But we did. And we did it well.)
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