A Reply To You

You dare have guts to write to her again?
You sent her home,
Left her to roam,
Made her eyes rain,
Tore her apart,
Night felt like noon,
You left too soon,
Tell lies with art?
Poet of pain.
Your lamp is burnt out, find another tune

She lost hope but I played another tune
Comforted pain,
Love her like art,
I won’t leave soon,
Make her night noon.
She was apart,
I made care rain
So she doesn’t roam,
My heart, her home,
And we never want you to write again.

Wildkhard [TA]

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