I like to lick my fingers
while no-one is watching.
Think of you and tip-toe
through my house wondering
when your balls will grow
as big as your mouth.
Mr. six foot two with
talk of grandosity. You
don't scare me anymore.
You never show up.
How many grand cancellations
will the two of us have? We
pull each other's hair and joke
about ever afters and bitches.
Chicken shit- you coward. Stand
up or move on. I'm tired of waiting
on empty promises of what might be.
Rescue me or move on.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I like it. The line about the empty promisses is a little cliche, but over-all, you hit the nail on the head- living in sort of a chaste infidelity.
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