She,
Only calls when,
She’s high and under the influence of sum’n
And,
Her answer to staying sober,
“shut up baby, we too grown for this.”
Despite the in-sanity,
I love every bit of her.
Her, nude self,
In the mid of an argument,
Her drunk ass,
In the moments, after we done sexing,
Whisky in hand,
And reefah upon the other.
She, is worth everything.
Broken, wings,
Broken, glass,
She still flies,
And, she,
Still reflects light out.
You should never think,
There is no heaven,
For roses like you,
I mean,
Butterflies,
Still fly in Hell.
