Late Night Talks of Metronomy

your hands were clammy wrists thin and the windshield seductively fogged begging my wool socks to draw fuzzy lines from the dashboard we both drank from my green tea cheeks burning and red, the crumbs of love you fed me were but the ones i already left behind with such earnest you spoke whispering in tones of lavender, earl gray breaths that came from the bottom of your stomach. but you are blind, old boy you fool who wishes to adore me so fiercely when you cannot see the painted face i hold in front of your eyes so we sat for a while and breathed out hot breath from the same air that touched the sun