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Anya
Poems
Dec 2019
Overcooked meal
This conversation is old
I’m drunk now
High on frustration and despair
My mama didn’t warn me it will
turn out like this
Overcooked meal
Tasteless
No pepper, no salt
No spice to go on
Nobody cares
Just expectations to measure up
I will make sure
Wear my best underwear
High heals
Good dress
The look on your face
It will be worth it
Let me serve you
Yeah, it will be something...
Written by
Anya
25/F/London
(25/F/London)
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Fawn
and
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