Thư mục: Tổng hợp |
Cuối cùng cũng làm xong cái này
In the terminal she sleeps on my shoulder,
Hair falling forward, mouth all askew.
Fluorescent announcements beat their wings overhead:
"Passengers missing, we're looking for you."
And she dreams through the noise, her weight against me,
Face pressed into the corduroy grooves.
Maybe it means nothing, maybe it means nothing,
Maybe it means nothing, but I'm afraid to move.
