Touch me sweet, God, you gave me nine lives and
I would waste one to say something to
someone from three and a half years ago when
I still humored my pastor
and got guys hard past midnight, at every midnight.
Could meet them again, two by two
and forget he would love some part of me in the future.
She called me a loving *******,
I wasted three of my lives
loving him in silence. I could have shouted
that I deserved better than someone who never did
call me baby just because I am young.
I deserved to have God caress my shoulders like angel
wings, pick my feet off the floor, glide on tile
like soap bars on skin
I will use to wash his slow escape away from me.
I actually dislike this one very much, but some things just need to be said.