Literature
AA 26
when i grow up,
not everything will be beautiful.
we, us, you and me, they won't be simple terms
but more like impossible math problems where
x= you and y= me,
z is all the times i have to derail a train
of thought, m is the number of times
i wish you were my last first kiss
and we'll throw n in there as that one
variable we don't fucking know
that keeps us from equaling us.
we'll end up making a very dangerous alphabet soup,
but leave out the vowels, they always tasted rather bitter
when we were children and i doubt that will change
in any future. i'll tell you a secret,
happiness can be a rather deceptive bitch,
especially when we