it didn't seem to be in the cards
i asked dilegently
pulling fates wih my left hand
(it still feels a little awkward, even after the surgeory)
her brown hair frames her face
she moves her fingers slow over my drunk skin
calming the storms
the waves let up just long enough
the bar echoes with chatter
poets and prophets alike
drinks fill cups, swords stab backs
i am buried in her green eyes
confessions spill all over the parking lot
tears run from the lovers' eyes
they kiss hard
an anchor rips into the beach
No comments:
Post a Comment