![]() |
Written a long time ago for my high school sweetheart |
| Fourteenth Floor Oct 10, 1987 She was a blonde from the fourteenth floor who took my hand and walked me away from the fire. Fourteenth floor, she took me there, where we stood on the balcony and watched the summer leave. She loved me, she said on the fourteenth floor, and she cried and asked me if I liked her body and I told her that I liked her mind. And with her eyes, she touched me and she took me down as the sun bled slowly onto the clouds in the dying of the summer on the fourteenth floor. |