Tags

If the boy who draws

let’s you look over his shoulder.

If the poet

smiles

and shows you her words.

If the girl who sings for the shower only,

hums a song

in front of you.

Know that you’re no longer a person

but the air

and dust

that fills their lungs.

When the world perishes,

and all things cease to exist,

you’ll remain inside an ink stain,

a paint brush,

a song.

— Alaska Gold

Advertisements