xetobyte@DeviantArt
Did I seize
From a fictitious vault
Pluck the stars inside
Your eyes by mistake
Leaving you thus inert?
Did I douse your fire?
By placing too many placebos
Into your upset hands
Or did I offer too little
In spite of demand?
Did your soul thirst
For blood, tears, or mortar?
Was I ever present?
Ever generous?
Did I understand
The depth of your breech?
The state of my carapace?
Was I flexible as black?
Or askance as yellow?
Was my suitcase heavier
Than my obtuse heart?
Was I worth my weight
Or did having me hurt
Worse than labor?
*
Unrelated update
Isadora is on the mend but now I have a fever
mindlovemisery 