So, Emily Dickenson only believed a man,
truly believed him,
when he was in agony.
If you disappoint me, I’ll be upset.
I DON’T CARE if my eagerness lacks ‘tact’.
I could scab over, roll with the punches,
but I’ll just get excited over your mannerisms.
I’ll twist, it’ll crack and…
I’ll bleed everywhere. Aw shit.
No comments:
Post a Comment