Conjuring Love’s Misfortune

The conjurer of your misfortunes.
Babe, I’m sorry
For treating your house like a tennis ball,
Using my sides as rackets,
I’m sorry for the spillage,
I should have treated your heart for what it was
An egg,
I know words can’t express
At this point actions either,
Humpty Dumpty was never reconstructed,
So our bond might be gone externally,
But allow me to rebuild the Bifrost that connected our souls,
That made us one,
Whilst i played with an entirely greater sum

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