Sorry that I’ve hijacked your routine
cleaning up my mess. Can’t fault my aim
hurling trash. Help pick me off this floor.

Sorry. Really, sorry’s what I mean
even when the whiskey’s what I blame
guilty. Isn’t that what drinking’s for?

Kinda makes you appreciate what you’d planned
kicking off our morning. Mishap’s same
happening as what you’d had in store.
All’s like poetry, except when you demand
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀don’t anymore.



sheila with cynthia


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