This
Horrible
Mean
Nasty
Rotten
Poem
Goes
Out
To
You.
My
Beautiful
Warm
Chaotic
Mess
Of
A
Friend.
——-
The next time you drink,
I’m putting you in the trunk of my car.
The passenger seat is reserved for folks
Who know how to handle their liquor.
Not people like you,
Who just get sicker.
(See, I can rhyme too.)
The next time you stoop over a piano
Or sing over the chords of a guitar,
I’ll try to stop my awestruck stare.
It’s more embarrassing for me than you.
(Although, I’m sure you’re already aware.)
The next time we sit in a bed of grass,
Instead of you, I’ll try to focus my eyes on stars.
I have a rule against denying myself beauty,
But I’m attempting self-control.
(Even in regards to you, truly)
Anyways, I’m done with this **** poem.
I’m pretty sure it’s a sonnet, or something like that.
So you’re welcome my dear Matan;
To you, I’m tipping my
hat.
Jun 25, 2021
Jun 25, 2021 at 2:35 PM UTC
This
Horrible
Mean
Nasty
Rotten
Poem
Goes
Out
To
You.
My
Beautiful
Warm
Chaotic
Mess
Of
A
Friend.
——-
The next time you drink,
I’m putting you in the trunk of my car.
The passenger seat is reserved for folks
Who know how to handle their liquor.
Not people like you,
Who just get sicker.
(See, I can rhyme too.)
The next time you stoop over a piano
Or sing over the chords of a guitar,
I’ll try to stop my awestruck stare.
It’s more embarrassing for me than you.
(Although, I’m sure you’re already aware.)
The next time we sit in a bed of grass,
Instead of you, I’ll try to focus my eyes on stars.
I have a rule against denying myself beauty,
But I’m attempting self-control.
(Even in regards to you, truly)
Anyways, I’m done with this **** poem.
I’m pretty sure it’s a sonnet, or something like that.
So you’re welcome my dear Matan;
To you, I’m tipping my
hat.
The next time I write a poem about you I’m outing you as a crack addict.