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She was a broken sky, where stars never shine and butterflies die.

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I gave her address to my soul. Ans she fucked the mailman.
TONY COBLE

Address Herself Mail Man Soul
Sometimes there are no words. Sometimes, it’s just poetry.
TONY COBLE

Poetry Silence Word
This heart. It’s broke. I don’t want it anymore.
TONY COBLE

Broken Heart Heart Myself
There’s this thing that hurts inside me all the time. Because I know what’s coming.
TONY COBLE

Hurt Myself Time
Her memory still lingers, like a cockroach in my heart.
TONY COBLE

Heart Herself Memories
If there’s never been a restraining order, it ain’t love.
TONY COBLE

Command Love Order
She’s just a girl. But her pussy makes me see god.
TONY COBLE

Girl God Herself Myself See Sex Woman
She was an artist on top of me, and soaked my sheets with poetry.
TONY COBLE

Artist Myself Poetry Sex
It’s funny how love fades, and they become more than a poem about yesterday.
TONY COBLE

Fade Love Past Poem
She’s like a jar of butterflies, waiting to be opened.
TONY COBLE

Butterfly Herself Open Wait
She was only a collection of flaws and she was beautiful.
TONY COBLE

Beautiful Collection Flaw Herself
I’m just a daydream. I don’t even know what I really am.
TONY COBLE

Dreams Existence Myself
Romance is a dream. I can get better shit at the liquor store.
TONY COBLE

Alcohol Dreams Myself Romance
In an endless universe, she needed space.
TONY COBLE

Herself Need Space Universe
Failures often become art. And art can never fail.
TONY COBLE

Art Failure Myself Wisdom
I’m wrong but I’m real.
TONY COBLE

Myself Reality Wrong

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