The Wedding
The sweet nothings whispered during a first dance
Picking at old wounds
Trying not to push it
A hawk dead on the side of the road
Draw the blinds
A privilege afforded to all
Not me though
I’m nothing of consequence
The sweet nothings whispered during a first dance
Picking at old wounds
Trying not to push it
A hawk dead on the side of the road
Draw the blinds
A privilege afforded to all
Not me though
I’m nothing of consequence