Page 14 - for the brokenhearts,

P E A C H , 2 0 2 1

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# 1 2 d r e a y

our love was encased in false dreamy tendencies and pretentious affection,

our love so delicate and scarce that I wonder,
if any of them were real if not such a sham,
but I’d still reminisce you as I lay here,

and remember years of picking up the pieces,
suppressed demands and overflowing impulses,

that penetrates a malignant state,
I wonder was it your worst intentions,

or if all your love was just my resentment.