His to Destroy, Mine to Save
Bubblebath heartache, foam in my hair,
Crying to shampoo like you actually care.
You wrecked me, you left me, I’m drowning in blue,
And I smell like regret... and blueberry shampoooooo.
She held the last note like she was headlining a sold-out Broadway show, eyes closed, chin lifted, arm still stretched to the heavens. It wasn’t singing anymore. It was howling, full-on, drunken howl-at-the-moon energy. And apparently, I was the moon.
I rarely laughed. My world ran on composure. Control. A shield I’d learned to live behind.
Bab Populer