Here I am, lying on the floor
Staring at your fine, fine heels
As you walk out that door
Slamming it in that sexy way
You developed over a plethora
Of tooth and nail and now I am
Talking to random people in bars
Asking questions I don't want to have
Answered because the only real answer
Is YOU WILL DIE we will ALL DIE
And when we are gone this all
Moves on.
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2 comments:
Ahem. Now that Relative poetry is back, I'd like to remind my, like, two or three readers that not all my "poems" are autobiographical.
Take this one, for instance. I've never, ever, looked at a girl's heels.
Uh huh. Sure.
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