I think she must feel each wish,\n[[kicking]] off her retina

* [[Tell her.]]\n* [[Don't.]]

a { color: palegreen !important }\n#sidebar li:hover{color:grey;cursor:pointer;}\nbody {background-color:black;}\nbody {color:white;}

I smile and we both fall in.

to come bouncing up [[until]]

She tells me to write about her [[saddle]].\nHer feet play with mine as [[she]] looks\nup from my chest, telling me all the [[details]].\n

In the morning I ask what she saw,\nbut she never dreams.

I smile, and we both fall [[in]].

Now she's on her back,\nstaring up at [[me]].\n

Expensive, minimal, [[pretty]].\n

I still haven't seen [[her]] ride.

Cough Syrup

onto her cheeks.

Now her feet prod, not play\nas she tries to [[reel]] in my [[thoughts]].

"What" -- she exhales into my ear.\n* [[Speak]]\n* [[Ponder]]

Still watching, I wait for the [[echo]]

and creating holes in her dreams.

Her hands pull me close and she breathes\n[["tell me."|tell me]]

I'd look away but I want to see the depths\nat least once [[more|reel]].

[[I]] brush away those bangs\nand drop a wish into each [[well]].

A butet.\nThe leather is soft, and scratches easily.\n

She blinks as the ripple causes\na bead or two to splash [[out]].

It's dim but I still see the wishing wells,\ngleaming beneath a mess of lush [[waves|me]].

Garrett Bush

"Nothing," I breathe back,\nbut her psyche won't [[retreat]].