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Your head as my favorite bookstore


I'm neglecting my realm to dissent your repeating line
But according to you all those letters were written out right
Confusing it seems but subconsciously re-reading the poem you've had sent to me
It blows a straight understanding of what may and may not rhyme
Inside those pages you've handed down
Beyond this library of our mindYou've found the shelf where our moment was emphasizedYou vent it to your blank noteA white paper full of false hope
Here now your chapters are closingYour sentence is losing it's depth to compile each character you're fusingThe words that you're using it felt less amusingAnd the syllables failed to describe all my wonder
Sometimes I would sit at the balconyPairing all the vivid lights to bear away all those memoriesThe one that got me stuck on holdWhile I'm addressing your head as my favourite bookstore
To quote the sole authorI'll rewrite the story where it ends in a haltI vent it to my blank noteA white paper full of false hope
Sometimes I would sit at the balconyPairing all the vivid lights to bear away all those memoriesThe one that got me stuck on holdWhile I'm addressing your head as my favourite bookstore

here to know you in my mind

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