viii.

dear oliver,
you stopped talking to me
and now have a cigarette
hanging by your tongue.
she's gotten you to take
sips of that cloud and
be a sky for it. now
you just look at me with
hatred. with disgust.
wouldn't blame you, oliver,
everyone else does the
same. just longer.

quinn

Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: AzTruyen.Top