
I thought I’m
done loving
lost boys
until you sneaked
into my window
that night,
asking for my hand.
But I know boys like you
so well,
I’ve fallen for
the same pair
of lies
before.
You’d sprinkle
some sparkly,
glittery duston meto make me fly
only to leave me
next morning,
stranded
between dreams
and reality.
Didn’t I tell you?
My name’s never Wendy
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