a charm necklace,
an early morn breakfast, and the scrubs.
this might sound reckless,
but you look speckless
in the filled bathtubs.
all the words wicked,
as a poisoned liquid,
slip from your tongue.
but i back off being rigid,
you're the lucky ticket, the iron lung.
i want you to stick closer,
i wish to move the closure.
Forgive-forget.
Fix the posture and stand taller.
Come get your grip and then get over.
I wish you had.
an iron lung
© Copyright: Неттер Линг, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125012607251
Свидетельство о публикации №125012607251
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