I think divorce papers taste like the ash of a cigarette falling from his lips when he told her the news.
Like whiskey burning fiery hot as it slides down the back of your throat,
with bitter sweet tears pooling in with umami ink, the saltiness hitting the tongue like the papers to the floor, a weeping widow who does not suffer from a death but an absence.
I think divorce papers cut up throats like the edge of a chip, swallowing the news over and over again does not seem to make it go down any easier.
I think divorce papers digest like a cheap meal, the kind that you know will give you trouble, but also know is better for you in the end.
Mar 23, 2021
Mar 23, 2021 at 8:20 PM UTC
I think divorce papers taste like the ash of a cigarette falling from his lips when he told her the news.
Like whiskey burning fiery hot as it slides down the back of your throat,
with bitter sweet tears pooling in with umami ink, the saltiness hitting the tongue like the papers to the floor, a weeping widow who does not suffer from a death but an absence.
I think divorce papers cut up throats like the edge of a chip, swallowing the news over and over again does not seem to make it go down any easier.
I think divorce papers digest like a cheap meal, the kind that you know will give you trouble, but also know is better for you in the end.
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