Perfectly

Turn down the headlights and look my way. We’ll tell our parents the best of things, no matter how awful they seem. The sickness of a family. Trace your eyes wake and retrieve, the morning sun can look so mean-the color. Kiss you head don’t say a thing, we’ll live forever in books darling. It’s the secrets beneath the leaves I keep with me. I’m falling up and down. And I’ll never write the letter, I wish you could read, the words perfectly.