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| I am: a burnt-out cliché the cloud in your silver lining the parade in your rain and the dark coffee that darkens your cream.
I am: your city of sorrow the moss that clings to your stone the injustice of love and war and the unraveled stitch that will cost you every time.
I am: the whale in your puddle your rain after the rainbow the bitter berry in your glass of fine wine and the relativity in your truth.
I am: the delicious inside chapters of the book you can't put down the cornerstone of your castle and the bitter happiness you feel when we reunite.
I am: the fucking queen of the world! |
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