Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2013 Ocho the Owl
ottaross
As you sit down to eat
With vigour and zeal
Good friends at your table
Make the most of the meal.

As you raise a glass
Then toast as you dine
The long evening chatting
Makes the most of your wine.

As at last you head home
It was good friends, well met
If there were still conversations
To which you didn't get.
The difference between us,
Is that he wants soft pink skin
And I want heartfelt words.

He wants fresh flesh,
I want the oldest tale, the one that ends with
“They all lived…”
But there is no happy, ever.

He just wants to **** me

I adopted the mantra.
I made my friend recite it
Until it sank in.
But then it sank too far
And now lies buried, hopefully irretrievable,
Waiting for resurrection.

He just wants to **** me

And after, he would easily abandon
No second thoughts,
No shining words
No happy ever.
After, he would leave me
Utterly alone.
In a bright white room
My eyes burn, desert dry
Hoping to be healthy.
 Oct 2013 Ocho the Owl
CharlesC
A faithful reminder
we have
each and every
morning..
A new chance to
recall the real order
of things..
From this source
breaking the horizon
we now see emerging
from darkness
the new shaping
of our day..
With our reminder
using the scales
universe to atom
we know then
of a sacred pattern
repeating..
Next page