You are the older man,
Yet you said you are not a man.
Teacups, wigs, Peppers, and Radio —
My dream come true is your ‘burden.’
The Inherited house, love-hated validations,
A child’s duty is another child’s weary.
The oddities that bind us together,
I shall play Sansa, and you play Olenna.
You are a boyfriend, and an aunt,
But certainly not a father figure.
I shall say sorry to her.
There will be no wise man with broad shoulders,
There will be no tearful romance,
There will be no sad love story.
But here we are, having a tea party,
Talking shit about the elderly,
Talking shit about our bloodies.
Our words are damned,
Our souls are cursed.
Maybe I shall stop being so two-faced.
There will be no passionate innocent girly,
Just a clueless woman who is weary.
