Wednesday, June 8, 2016

I'm sorry, when will I be different.

Your words were
As smooth as wine.
Drunk, no restraints
I was letting
You take pieces of away
Infatuated by the image of
Beaches, pina coladas 
Turbulent love
A home far away from California 
Now sober
Realizing 
Your engulfment 
Is not what I needed
Or wanted
I'm sorry
I couldn't tell you.

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