She writes a story with her eyes
As well as with her words,
When every tinge of dissonance
Resolves, then, into thirds
And I’m inside a sort of play
That’s yet to be completed —
She writes a story with her eyes
And I can’t wait
To read it
She writes a story with her eyes
As well as with her words,
When every tinge of dissonance
Resolves, then, into thirds
And I’m inside a sort of play
That’s yet to be completed —
She writes a story with her eyes
And I can’t wait
To read it