The first time we slept together was in a small motel room with foreign sheets that felt more familiar than those I had slept in for years. Your lips were coated in the green neon lights from outside, and your head rested on my chest. I was certain we had just done the stupidest thing as soon as we bought our train ticket but the way you snored into my shirt made me feel ashamed for even thinking down on our plan. If I had to write all the things I've done wrong they'd stretch farther than the miles we've traveled to this cheap bed. As your tangled hair is sprawled over me, perhaps its not how many things I've done incorrectly, but who makes me feel right even in the wrong.

By Norma Leyva


  1. i'm in love with this. your work always impresses

  2. the video gives off this very homely ambiance, i love it

  3. the writing is lovely, and so is the video. the music also goes very well with the writing