My heart made a promise to myself,
To gift you a love song,
But it tore no holes to whisper sweet nothings from.
My heart played dead in your grief,
When your mother passed,
As I begged for it to strum and let the rivers gush past.
My heart sensed every blunt knife,
As you stabbed at my armour,
I cushioned it between us, but they only grew sharper.
Mar 27, 2021
Mar 27, 2021 at 6:24 PM UTC
My heart made a promise to myself,
To gift you a love song,
But it tore no holes to whisper sweet nothings from.
My heart played dead in your grief,
When your mother passed,
As I begged for it to strum and let the rivers gush past.
My heart sensed every blunt knife,
As you stabbed at my armour,
I cushioned it between us, but they only grew sharper.
