I’ll be the last to turn the lights out if my peers have already flown Reminiscing with a brew before sunrise without interest in a dying sun Can’t smell the dark roast the same anyway And its taste just faints on my tongue I’ll be the last to turn the lights out…
Month: August 2024
POURING FOR US ALL
Misunderstood toad comes out of its closet at night, surprised by my light. Halts. Sends me a thought wave: they’s no longer expecting me to get his pronouns right or to strip myself and dress up in her colours. Expecting no pressure to change into mine. Live…