Saturday
Inevitably, trivial matters explode into
Olympic arguments and we're buried
(six feet under tears and painful
truths-un-truths). Lavender or
vanilla? Red or blue? Dogs or
cats? I'll rip your eyes out
before I see through
them.
YOU ARE READING
Post Meridiem
PoetryI'd do anything to save myself. Hell, I'd even change the world.
