and here you are,
still crying over spilled milk
and baby here i am,
lactose intolerant
numb to feel
crying with dry eyes
and a silent voice.
you keep asking why
I left.
but baby, i had no choice.
you were crying over
apple juice.
and you were
the apple of my eye.
so here i am,
a wrinkle in time
and there you are,
with the ironing board.
and here i am,
a damsel in distress
and there you are,
my knight with no armor,
with no weapon to fight.
not all stars fit their
constellation.
a/n; if my poems confuse you, good. they're from my mind, raw. they're not meant to make sense to you, they're meant to make a connection to. in this one, "apples shaped like stars", it's about two people who shouldn't be together because they're so different, but they keep finding a way back to eachother. maybe opposites really do attract.
