Roses are seeking for entitlement
While you are stroking a leopard on the head
Ironing linen with a steamer
You call him a lover
while he calls you a whiner
Even tides have never been more drier
triggered by makeup on the counter
Every beep from the register
makes your head feel lighter
Without it you know he will never like you.
Chemicals, chemicals,
a love so bold
He fell in love with the color blonde,
you dyed your hair just to tag along.
A love like gold.
Roses should not be used as an olive branch
Your mouth shouldn’t be a decoration
While words are left unsaid
You cut your words short
but deep down you know
You deserve someone who loves you
Just you, nothing less, everything more.
This was written by our contributing writer, Siwaphiwe Matha.
Image Source: Pexels, Zarina Khalilova
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