help me save this kind of love for a Sunday when the coffee stain we made on our white table cloth will finally be gone from the caustic words we’ve spilled over it.
until that day, every sapling i plant will grow to five foot six, just like you, and form a bulge where your hips do.
until that day, you will always have enough room in the pit of your collarbone to cup water from the shower.
but when that day is here, our shadows will stop following us around. i will feel a gush of happiness or sorrow when i close my eyes, take a deep breath and remember all that i say to you now. i can only tell you that day whether it is happiness or sorrow that i feel.
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