Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
he has a left handed base, and I want to hear him play, but he is in vermont, for the winters, but that's alright, we can have the summers, but I will be working, and trying to get my truck I wanted, and he will be waiting, daily for me, he will eventually get tired, of waiting for me, to hear him play, right? see, I love him, even though the last time I was with him, my friend kicked his sack, do I know why, nope, will he, she, or anyone tell me, why they hell they were made at him? nope... but I love him, I love his long hair, and his honest mind, I love how he doesn't call me pretty, but still does with his eyes. I love how he just means what he says, and says what he means, I love how he, says he thinks he loves me, and how he doesn't get mad when I cry, I love when he holds me, I love when he kisses me, and kisses my neck, and leaves marks, to make sure I don't forget where he was, I love how he doesn't make me **** him, or **** his **** unless I want to, but, I hate, how I won't get to hear his base, still, and how I miss him,
0
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
Lefthanded Base
he has a left handed base, and I want to hear him play, but he is in vermont, for the winters, but that's alright, we can have the summers, but I will be working, and trying to get my truck I wanted, and he will be waiting, daily for me, he will eventually get tired, of waiting for me, to hear him play, right? see, I love him, even though the last time I was with him, my friend kicked his sack, do I know why, nope, will he, she, or anyone tell me, why they hell they were made at him? nope... but I love him, I love his long hair, and his honest mind, I love how he doesn't call me pretty, but still does with his eyes. I love how he just means what he says, and says what he means, I love how he, says he thinks he loves me, and how he doesn't get mad when I cry, I love when he holds me, I love when he kisses me, and kisses my neck, and leaves marks, to make sure I don't forget where he was, I love how he doesn't make me **** him, or **** his **** unless I want to, but, I hate, how I won't get to hear his base, still, and how I miss him,
GodDamnItCat
Written by
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem