sometimes when my brain is congested, it coughs, and words come out.

the dust dances too

a poetry reading by:
the dust dances too 

i’m intoxicated by the way you drink
up the sun, with your lips, and tongue
and open palms,
the warm air fills up our lungs
and i long so much
to touch all of the places
that light drips from your skin. 

(Source: thedustdancestoo)

  • 26 May 2012
  • 199