Alun Piggins

Rainstorm
slipping in and out of your hands I'm not the first to fumble desire half alive being coaxed along the water's still your lips are blue puddles after a thunderstorm the moment has gone forever every day I lose you and win you back every day you scrape the scabs from our wounds loyalty you'll abandon to rediscover imprints on a bus window travelling across country mist hangs in the air like a hundred miles behind half heartedly we let go From Letras Mania