Monday mornings we're meant to
be sat down, handed coffee, and weakened.
I didn't know you wanted to be heard.
I wrote my headline for you.
Tuesday mornings are the equivalent
to the morning after, sudden and hungover.
I should have known you were decomposing.
I moved waters for you.
Wednesday evenings I had the time to cry.
I had the time to clean up my act
and to forget the morning.
You should have seen my bones.
I was starved for you.
Thursday nights felt like I could take
boat rides, through the seas of lovers lost
and lovers dead.
You should have felt how corrupted I was.
I sold my soul for you.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 11:17 PM UTC
Monday mornings we're meant to
be sat down, handed coffee, and weakened.
I didn't know you wanted to be heard.
I wrote my headline for you.
Tuesday mornings are the equivalent
to the morning after, sudden and hungover.
I should have known you were decomposing.
I moved waters for you.
Wednesday evenings I had the time to cry.
I had the time to clean up my act
and to forget the morning.
You should have seen my bones.
I was starved for you.
Thursday nights felt like I could take
boat rides, through the seas of lovers lost
and lovers dead.
You should have felt how corrupted I was.
I sold my soul for you.
To be a writer, everything is for you.
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