StarGarden

The taste of smoke on my lips brings me back to your kiss. Do you still wear my necklace, do you still have my ring? Do you still mean the things you said, and do you always sing of jet planes when you think of me? (and how we'd laugh and sing in harmony with both our hearts and all the living things.) Do you still mean the words you wrote above my bed (of love)? Do you still smoke and pop your pills; am I still your drug? And how many nights do you dream of me, of our woods, the grass and sky? The days you kissed and held my hand, and begged me not to cry. I miss you, god, I miss you. My sweet hippie pile fiend. Hold me