Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2016
You've got a place in Times Square
you buy me nice things
you like how I look and
you like how I sing

I can't count all the stamps
that your passport has
your speech is refined
you can talk about jazz

But I know by the touch
of your soft, gentle hand
you're not hurt, you're not angry
you wont understand.
Anistasia
Written by
Anistasia
280
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems