humdrum.
this is so all over the damn place.
is it going to be messy?
or is it going to be nothing?

i think that your arms are beautiful
wrapped all around me
they make me feel beautiful too
like a golden wrapper around a stale hard candy
minty
exciting
or nothing much.

the mind is a trickster
it reminds you of the old during the new
no one knows why
summer days come sliding back, and februaries of last
rush into my heart
its not a broken thing, but its sad sometimes
the feeling of never knowing
but always caring

he's not in this city, and i'm not in his.
this is not my city.
it is a city i hate
for dreamers like me, this city just loses luster
and hopes become stale
like an open box of uneaten chocolates from last december