You didn’t meant it.
Your gifts, consolations, plush saccharine petals.
You used their precious implications to hide
Your disposition.
It was my birthday.
I sank into my seat,
Driving towards the expectancy of consistence,
Home, away from
Your wonted constitution.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 8:23 PM UTC
You didn’t meant it.
Your gifts, consolations, plush saccharine petals.
You used their precious implications to hide
Your disposition.
It was my birthday.
I sank into my seat,
Driving towards the expectancy of consistence,
Home, away from
Your wonted constitution.