show me how to kiss the clouds, how to wear a colored sleeve and I’ll leave sunshine on your tongue. you say tomorrow doesn’t need time to sleep in a bed of words that decay from my ribs, that the voices suppressing my heart have ties to vows we’ve attached to paper planes. tomorrow doesn’t need to see from the same heights we break promises for. December only lives and breathes in you, in the conversations you leave to chance because maybe silence will hold your warmth beside you tonight. and darling, though you got your heart broken many years ago, I know the sadness has never left.