Your toes

Your toes outstretched in your muddy brown shoes. The stage seems vast in your presence as you grab up your arms to clench down on the cold metal of the microphone. You sleep like a kid with one hand stuck to the side of your face. This is love. This is love. Pulling the extra cord to the sky as you sing. The orange of your vest. The orange of your vest. Emotion flowing through the air as the notes you sing hang steady in the air. Held tight to the inside of you chest, reverberating in endless echoes. You’re like that doll you wind up as a child, the rusty door you pull with two hands. sit with me as we pull our covers into mountains. Your fingertips touch mine. We’re out to prove its not in me and not in you. We’d like to see some colour. Its due. Lying next to me and feeling you, I’d like to breath in colour.

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