Why is my cup of tea also what I take on the rocks?
I like how they both warm that place at the very bottom of my stomach
I hate how every morning I’m not sure which one to pick
I remember when I use to shower as I’d hum along to Lennon; attempting to make it out over the intense water pressure over my head
What do I prefer, Melodies or Melancholy?
Now my showers are where I stare
No, not the passionate stare when he admires her
The one where everything blurs out time, and time again.
the one where you don’t have to think about the tears
Yeah,
I know they still roll down as you repeat “Yes, I’m fine. I’m good.”
and then more tears are shed after the fact because the correlation between you and “being good,” has never felt this astray.
so,
blank but full.
why give a fuck when you know it does not matter
why give a fuck when you know you have all the answers, but life will still throw shit at you anyways
just because it can
No Elizabeth, criticism is not advice
and Romeo never loved Juliet.
Father use to tell me, if life gives you lemons, fuck it, make a mojito.
Mischief could either be your closest connection or a self constructed enemy
Daddy,
I still wanted the juice
-C.C.
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