Day: Jan 8, 2023

The early spring sparks we once held in our palms,

They are slowly dying on the old veranda.

I barter with devils, I read holy psalms,

And I hope these tears are just propaganda.

Is our love crumbling or is it our hearts?

My beloved, please do not look the truth in the eye.

Where there once was a mirror, there are only shards,

And I swear that I never told you a lie.

But the air around us tastes like broken trust.

I wish we could go back to the spring flowers.

I lost my head between red wine and lust.

Now I watch you leave through rain showers.

-Jackie