Wednesday, February 24, 2016

brittle bones

hey Lucinda, 
you come out drinking with me tonight
the summer is almost gone and soon
the path that leads to your house 
will be a treacherous with the frost 
and I'll make it last in this cold, alone at night

'I could drink all this body could hold
but for the fear I might fall over 
and break these brittle bones
and these dirty little cigarettes we smoke
and the liquor it just throws a cloak over the feelings we should show'

(...)

'I only dance to remember
how dancing used to feel'



[aqui]

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