#1
it's late but I'm just sitting
sick of sticking stuff on the back burner
call me smitten
but it feels like I'm just taking my turn again
she sleeks in
they put their elbows in
and give her up the eyes

she's got her loophole on her finger
dangling a bunch of keys
probably just take her number
inbox her my soliloquies

you're the galaxy to me
you're there but ultimately out of touch
I stretch but only end up
shitting up the pattern of the night
which used to be alright

it's dark and I'm near quitting
biting off more than I can chew
but she comes fitted
with kaleidoscopic hues
she shimmers in
they all put their hands in
caught up in her curvature

she's got her loophole on her finger
dangling a bunch of keys
probably just take her number
inbox her my soliloquies

you're the galaxy to me
you're there but ultimately out of touch
I stretch but only end up
shitting up the pattern of the night

I drew you a broad sketch
of my mood in punctuation
forgetting you'd forget to
contextualise the situation

those vicious whispers surface
constrict and contain us
the gap between send and delete
too big to reign us in

you're the galaxy to me
you're there but ultimately out of touch
I stretch but only end up
shitting up the pattern of the night

the pattern of the night
the pattern of the night
the pattern of the night