Constance

She wore black boots and small dreams

too comfortable with content

wasting precious, valuable time

that could of been wisely spent

 

Nobody but a brother

who lived two thousand miles away

she was fixed to this moment, this spot

this time

and to her that was okay

 

but I was sick like a hangover

I was hooked like a cliff

I was hung up on this girl

who did not fight to exist