Sunday night anxiety

Is it like how the pig feels, on the way to the slaughterhouse…

Sway to the touch

The petals sway to the touch of the wind in a lulled way that only a heart can understand when its string’s been tugged by the sway of your voice those lyrics in between silences and the sound of your pen dancing in ink on pure white sheet

Intense emotion

You lied But I understood you when you did

They embraced for two years

And she thought She literally didn’t want anything else