This here skips a beat.

Every time I leave cord hanging.

And I thought YOU were one with needs.

Truth is. Twas I, swinging entire time.

Catch me. Within desolation.

Show that. That we are made of.

Your presence allowing. Real.

And we keep connecting. Four.

Granted, how you've been taken.

Cherry on top. How I truly feel.

Morrow, can you still be mine?

Know now. Can't hold on whatsoever.

Photography by Michael Fanelli.