He does not bring a ring.
Nor lilies,
but doom.
A gift
to hang around your neck,
a notarized noose of possessive vernacular.
There's no one to save here.
All there is left is truth,
the past is rotting in the future
while my war torn psyche
waves its white flag-
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 7:54 PM UTC
He does not bring a ring.
Nor lilies,
but doom.
A gift
to hang around your neck,
a notarized noose of possessive vernacular.
There's no one to save here.
All there is left is truth,
the past is rotting in the future
while my war torn psyche
waves its white flag-
rough rough draft, just looking for feedback while I edit
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