I always wipe the blood off my heart with the hand I shake with.
by stoop-kid
you're Woodside's Arcanine,
and it took me five years and an hour
to finally find you,
and by the time I got to your door,
my skull was already rolling
off my shoulders,
to catch every angle of your rakish design
until my heart burst out from my neck.
and I wish the cold shower
did enough to quiet the fever
and calm the bones,
so I never missed every curveball I threw,
and would be wise enough to tell
when it's time to fold.