I open my purse, and all that is left is a sigh.
In the pocket, a voice whispering why.
In a tin, a few tears collected from a recent cry.
And a list,
with lie,
after lie,
after lie.
–S.
I open my purse, and all that is left is a sigh.
In the pocket, a voice whispering why.
In a tin, a few tears collected from a recent cry.
And a list,
with lie,
after lie,
after lie.
–S.