often and then
our greedy hands fall short
of perfect pleasures
and we reap easy days
days of bliss
black streaks and lazy hearts
we ease open to
delicate areas
spots of inked excuses
aimed at purpose
he called it love
he called it mine
yet somehow
we are restless
something we seemed to be
during grey skies
when it would rain
though seemingly calm
our eyes screamed glory
and we knew no shame
of perfect pleasures
and we reap easy days
days of bliss
black streaks and lazy hearts
we ease open to
delicate areas
spots of inked excuses
aimed at purpose
he called it love
he called it mine
yet somehow
we are restless
something we seemed to be
during grey skies
when it would rain
though seemingly calm
our eyes screamed glory
and we knew no shame
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