Spoken word poison,
Leaked on your bib, from all that you've chosen.
Under a sunken chest, chambers remain frozen.
Fighting for life all these years,
Time spent; tears over empty beers.
Your hesitance is what really grids whats left of these rusted gears.
Curled under your willow with nothing more than a weak smile,
Counting crows while you figure out a maze of denial.
Slipping through rough hands seems to be your guile.
And nothing's too good to be true,
At lips last meet, I thought you knew.
Appetent; my love, yet weary waiting for you.