you'd play the piano in the living room,
but i refused to sing along.
so you press the ivories on your own,
and your house doesn't feel like home.
just please, don't ask me why
all of the soft things to say, i say them.
but you deny them all with intention.
who decides it's the end of affection?
it's now this one type of connection
where we're close but for real too far.
wicked game
© Copyright: Неттер Линг, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125033108371
Свидетельство о публикации №125033108371
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