"evan" poems
CRUSH
Crush,
The term wouldn’t exist if it doesn’t hurt does it?
When does it start? This feeling,
It grows bigger and larger,
And suddenly I realise,
My heart is on the verge of exploding,
Bursting with emotions that I can’t help but feeling so.
The only thing that I have want to convey and send to you is
‘I like you’, ‘I like you a lot’,
My heart, it hurts,
Evan seeing you from afar, my heartbeat goes crazy,
It's hard to breath,
How do I stop this feeling?
I am tired, I am sad, I am happy, I am anxious,
Because the only thing I have been thinking of is you,
You! You! and only you,
But crush, oh crush,
In the end you’re just a crush,
Those words,
They were never conveyed,
And I silently keep this feeling to myself,
With the faint hope that you’ll return this feeling,
In this feeble heart of mine,
And again, it hurts.
-nuraishahazman-
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 7:11 AM UTC
evan peters,
your so fine.
i've seen your behind, atleast 4 times.
i think you should know that you're a dime.
will you be my valentine?
evan peters,
is one hell of a man,
he can even pull off lobster hands.
evan peters i am your biggest fan.
i would love to tell you this over a can of spam.
but ****
you're emmas man.
evan peters,
you're so fly,
you're bootylicious,i can't denie, to hell with shakira,
your hips do not lie,
american horror story, until the day i die!
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
Their lies are prompted
from teleprompters
and executed flaw-fully
from taxpayer's helicopters.
They say we're protecting
foreign daughters
while filtering profits
to desert clad marauders.
Blank faced public
fear conversing religion and politics
while passively electing
lunatics with trigger switches.
Arm the rebels
they bite the hand that feeds
the middle east burns
while America ******* bleeds.
The white, blue and red
camo helmets on their heads
farm fed frat boys
equipped with jackets of lead.
We watched Saddam crumble
his statue beaten with shoes
but the same war we already fought
the puppets now will choose.
Fight the good fight
support the troops.
Drone strikes by twilight
**** the troops.
An Army of one
Sempter Fi
Do or Die
I won't shed a single tear when you come back in a casket
covered in a flag you valued more than your life.
Our heroes are our welfare
stop blaming single mothers
plastic bags tied around throats
water boarding dissent, it smothers.
**** the Medal of Honor
I'm tearing up your portrait Obama.
How many can benefit from free tuition?
But we give it to those trained to slaughter.
Our priority is the police state
Nazis pretending to tote freedom.
We sip our Americanos
And retain nothing from the newspaper we are reading.
**By Evan Ponter
@evanponter**
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
The psychics were breathing smoke,
rummaging through my roommates collection of abstract art,
they told me what my favorite Modest Mouse album was,
they told me about my personality,
I told them I was a psychic,
they told me to **** off.
Everyone assumes an original identity
in the self-inflicted apocalypse
provided by that old friend, alcohol.
Kevin was the smooth-talking,
drink-mixing extraordinaire.
Kara was the cynic.
Shawna was the kindhearted.
Evan was sober.
Tyler was in and out.
I was the ******* that took a party pill,
bounced off everyone with a handshake
and an apology.
We **** ourselves to resurrect,
piece together the discordance,
the chaos,
the girls.
While the psychics were breathing smoke,
while Kevin was collapsing,
while everyone was worried about me,
all I could say was,
"This is the happiest night of my life,
and that depresses the hell outta' me."
I longed for the sirens in the distance,
I took another drink,
I longed for renewed innocence,
I took another drink,
I longed for someone to lay beside me,
I took another drink,
it was finally enough.
I took off my shirt,
made war with the remnants of stability,
of sanity,
told my friends I loved them,
and hoped that my time ended in sync
with the sunrise.
Sep 18, 2010
Sep 18, 2010 at 2:45 PM UTC
Dear Karen,
It is seven years this month when you left us.
I miss you everyday. In the car, seeing the passenger seat empty, but can still hear you telling me to slow down. When I see Russ and Mea, I smile, knowing that our grandchildren, Evan and Emily, would not be here if not for you.
Not long ago, at one of Evan's hockey games, I turned to Mea and said, "I hope Karen is watching this", for Evan(goalie) was playing exceptionally well. Mea put her hand on my shoulder, "she probably has a better seat than we do." I don't doubt that at all. The same goes for Emily and her activities, whether it be soccer, basketball, softball, or who knows what else, I know that you keep that protective blanket around both of them. Yes, there will be scrapes, scratches, bumps, and bruises. perhaps a broken bone. But when the game calls for a "clutch" player, is when the power of the angel, you, leaves the bench, strengthening the confidence of all the players, not just one, or two, but all. Like all things mortal, sometimes they win, sometimes they lose. But most of all, they learn. A most important result.
Love you, and miss you!
Richard
copyright: richardriddle 01-07-2015
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC
Written for a school project
September 09, 2013
To: Evan Riddle
From: Granddad
Well, I understand that you would like to have a letter from me, recognizing certain traits, and accomplishments, and so forth. Begging your pardon, I will begin in this manner.
A couple of years ago, during a"pre-game warmup" prior to the start of one of your games, I was standing behind the glass watching the pucks bounce off your chest. A young boy, perhaps a year younger, came up, stood beside me, also watching you. He then turned, yelling to a friend, "here he is, #41!" He was quickly joined by his friend and another, all three watching you at close range.You have no idea how that made me feel. How proud of you I was, that apparently your reputation was developing among your peers within the "ice crowd."
In my home, on a wall, is a photo of you, taken during the All-Star game in Ottawa, Canada. You, wearing the red and white All-Star jersey, standing in front of the net watching and observing the action that soon would be coming at you.
This is my favorite photo. The expression on your face silently reflects your abilities to "focus" on what you are supposed to do, the "determination" to do it, and the "perseverance" to get it done. Three traits that have followed, and stayed with you, and guided you to be successful, in all you have accomplished in both sport and academic activities in which you have participated. You are respected by your team, your coaches, your teachers, and your classmates. You can't have better than that.
Love you,
Granddad
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 8:09 AM UTC
I admit it was a little odd being in your place again,
Especially without you.
But I did have a blast.
The boys played their game with Family Guy in the background,
Kara and I baked,
And we all laughed.
We were amazed to see what everyone is like sober,
And really they aren't much different.
Chase was still confused about everything,
James was still a smart ***
But one person was a little different.
Evan was joking,
Laughing,
Smiling.
He was being polite,
Offering to help bake,
Offering to let us play their game.
You all may think Evan is a stick in the mud,
But I think he is a sweetheart.
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 10:07 PM UTC
Dear Karen
Dear Karen,
It is seven years this month when you left us.
I miss you everyday. In the car, seeing the passenger seat empty, but can still hear you telling me to slow down. When I see Russ and Mea, I smile, knowing that our grandchildren, Evan and Emily, would not be here if not for you.
Not long ago, at one of Evan's hockey games, I turned to Mea and said, "I hope Karen is watching this", for Evan(goalie) was playing exceptionally well. Mea put her hand on my shoulder, "she probably has a better seat than we do." I don't doubt that at all. The same goes for Emily and her activities, whether it be soccer, basketball, softball, or who knows what else, I know that you keep that protective blanket around both of them. Yes, there will be scrapes, scratches, bumps, and bruises. perhaps a broken bone. But when the game calls for a "clutch" player, is when the power of the angel, you, leaves the bench, strengthening the confidence of all the players, not just one, or two, but all. Like all things mortal, sometimes they win, sometimes they lose. But most of all, they learn. A most important result.
Love you, and miss you!
Richard
copyright: richardriddle 01-07-2015
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 6:47 AM UTC
I've been asked by our son and the grandchildren, Evan and Emily, "Granddad, what would you like to have Santa bring you for Christmas?" A stock answer with grandparents nearly everywhere is, "Don't get me anything, for I have everything I need or want, so save your money."
Although this is a true answer, I usually give some kind of a rediculous answer like, "A pair of horseshoes would be nice." They smile, laugh, but it wouldn't surprise me if they bought a pair.
When I say, "I have what I want", I mean just that. For you see, my family, our son Russ, daughter-in-law, Mea, Evan and Emily, and my "Guardian Angel", "Brie", are my Christmas gifts, 365 days a year.
I can't ask for more than that!
copyright: richard riddle- 12-21-2015
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
The names I would give if I had 26 sons.
Abel
Benjamin
Conway
Darth
Evan (After my nephew)
Fabian
Garth
Hollis (My dad)
Joey (My brother)
Isaac (My grandfather)
Kent
Lemuel
Matthew
Nathaniel
Othniel
Paul
Quinton
Richard (My middle name)
Sandage (My grandmother’s maiden name)
Terry (My name)
Uzziah
Val
William (My great grandfather)
X (One of my favorite wrestlers was Doctor X)
Yale
Zacchaeus
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
Hello.
Good evening and welcome back
This is tonight’s program
The air is ripe
Ripe with social abundance
And whimsical latte grooves
A warmth in the air
It caresses your body, this warmth
It walks by your side, this warmth
It’s there holding your hand
Knowing that you’re alone
Because this isn’t the same warmth of a
person’s hand
But this comfort, this invisible hand, this invisible other
Is the warmth of the free midnight air
The city lights: fluorescent metal plants with flashing neon insects and prowling jungle dwellers
The soft ambient jazz that plays from the dripping rain.
Giving your life the harmony of passion
The melody of joy
But with the rhythms of melancholy
A lone phrase that passes by each composition
Your world goes black and white
Full becomes hollow
Radiant becomes dull
Trust becomes deception
Love becomes hate
Life becomes death
The rain intensifies with translucent color
Reflecting the street illumination of grandeur
and sensual subtlety
Urban poetry doused by mythic ambition
Perplexing the eyes of the unknowing artist
Raising the half full glass to the half empty person
Objects in mirror are closer than they appear
You are that much closer to your reflective self
The part of you that will never leave the gaze of reflective surfaces
There when you look away from your noon time coffee on the café window
There when your mind wonders away from your spouses’ arguing; the mirror behind them
There on the puddles on the asphalt and street corners, asking you with voiceless faces
‘Where are you now?”
“Is this the dream of God subconscious?”
“Is God asleep? Is this all just a dream of something bigger than us/’
Having a conversation with your reflection can turn out to be quite enlightening.
This program is brought to you by the following sponsors; Oatmeal, tea leaves, voiceover actors, large print books, Lucretius, Bill Shakespeare, handmade leather wallets, chocolate kisses, long hair, motorcycles, Frank Gambale, Daft Punk, Martin Scorsese, Goya, Kevin Smith, Evan Rachel Wood, Jones Soda, Cappuccinos and all the little people (excluding mole people…they know why.)
Please swing by again.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 7:40 PM UTC
Mathilda is brutally murdered
Udolph is the obvious suspect
remembers everyone how she jilted him
David her last lover is inconsolable
Evan’s appearance raises suspicion
right before the ****** he met her
Ergot the butler had seen him going out
Rocky was with him could be an accomplice
Inspector Brown finds it a tough case
so many suspects but all with good alibi
Dr. Thomas isn’t sure about the cause of death
autopsy is necessary for the confirmation
visible though are the abrasions on her neck
Inspector Brown interrogates all the suspects
dogs are brought to find smells of trails.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC
I lap a bit of the water out of my cupped hands,
then splash the rest on my battered face.
Evan looked at me like I was obscene,
left the room, slammed the door, burning,
Tyler was still nauseous, buried in the couch,
talked light about being surprised at his survival.
I made him some toast,
we tried to piece together the night,
but we only remembered that
he concocted some White Russian rip-off and called
it a Grey Romanian,
I talked to Rachel about *** and respect,
Evan wasn't very appreciative of the cake I baked,
nor was he kind to Shawna or Kara when
they gave him kickass gifts,
Bobby kept Tyler from drowning in his *****
Lauren brought me a blanket when I was freezing,
I passed out in the bathroom,
and the general consensus was we need to slow down.
Tyler told me he felt like he needed to go to church.
I felt ***** too,
but it was more from the things I have seen,
I have touched, and God never could make me unsee, unfeel.
Tyler and I sat and talked like ancient men,
men who had far outlived their time,
and were just waiting for death's hour
to claim its ****
Pure things come and find us,
we won't find you,
not down the road we've been taking.
Pure things,
the world should hang its head in shame
at all its ***** things.
Give us a revival.
The Grey Romanians, the depths,
and the *** aren't giving the answers
we expect.
I told Tyler I loved him,
walked out the door,
the sun was too bright,
I walked past an Asian lady,
her smile was insane,
I climbed in my car,
put on some Thelonious
and mended myself with each erased mile.
Oct 2, 2010
Oct 2, 2010 at 8:43 PM UTC
no matter when I go to sleep
no matter when I go to sleep,
my next door neighbors
wake me up,
arguing.
History and the Future,
the oddest couple,
always in opposition,
in a world of mutual armament.
these unilateral siamese twins,
every dialectic ends the same:
one says I'll **** you,
then, they both start laughing.
(Eléa's #1 fav)
9/15/17 4:35am
<•>
mark me as safe
though the namelessly hurricane is never ending,
the roof, a sacrifice in the wind's temple,
letting millions of naked eyes be persecution witnesses,
marking me as safe, but not saved,
surviving, the destruction, a beautiful curse,
this violent universe.
9/15/17
4:30am
(gifted to Joel & Kelly Rose))
<•>
address me with no assumptions
for we will provide the facts,
with liberty and justice,
we will fill in the redacted parts
in the bill of particulars,
of the indictments signed namelessly,
only as the
The State's Attorney,
woo hoo,
We Who Always Win,
Cause We Make the Rules
9/8/17 9:31am
<•>
21801BB705 VDAB7
given this, the key,
the rulers announced thanks,
but not in anyway a necessite,
we will just smash the locks
and burn your personal history down,
until now it has JUST been whiteout corrected,
you're welcome!
9/14/17
6:37am
(gifted to Evan Crow)
<•>
don't major in the minors
don't major in the minors,
classicism is a double entendre,
you don't understand,
but you will,
when you study headless statues
in a museum
come back to life,
do not act surprised.
progress is not an iPhone,
it's taking a long bathroom break
in the mind.
(Graces's fav)
9/10/17. 5:37am
<•>
All the old battles are new again
All the old battles are new again.
every old poem is but a pretense, a new work refreshed.
cutting edges dull knives, easily resharpened by new use,
fresh excuses.
stale words that stick humans, come to life,
as any and all of your favo-rite
army of (fill in the blank)
___ism's,
marching in the name of good riddance
of the disloyal opposition.
nothing new under the sun,
history books predict the future.
(Eléa's #2 fav)
9/15/17 3:55am
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 11:38 AM UTC
This morning I woke up to a circus runaway
He was sitting in the kitchen
of the house I share with three boys
he eyed me in my pajamas
He was sitting in the kitchen
basking in the light of the morning
he eyed me in my pajamas
He works for the circus that stopped in town
He is Evan’s second cousin once removed
I fried us eggs while everyone else slept
He missed the circus train to Atlanta
and needed a place to stay.
I fried us eggs while everyone else slept
We watched the dogs playing in the yard
he needed a place to stay
and put his feet up on the table
He told me stories about working at the circus
I’ve always had a lingering curiosity
he put his feet up on the table
and had a girlfriend waiting for him in Charlotte
This morning I woke up to a circus runaway
I made him breakfast and then he had to leave
for a few minutes he talked with Evan
about traveling (running again) to India
I’ve always had a lingering curiosity
he eyed me in my pajamas
he had a girlfriend waiting for him in Charlotte
I made him breakfast and then he had to leave
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
He is older-
taller
athletic
*celloist
*She.....
beautiful
red hair...green eyes
infectuous giggle
He wears a tuxedo(orchestra)
*she straightens his tie,
picks the lint from his collar-
a kiss on his cheek*
As the orchestra plays
he plays for her
she sits in awe...
*Watching.....
Listening*......
"The Duet"
Evan and Emily
My Grandchildren
richard riddle: 03-17-2016
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 12:43 PM UTC
The one thing that comes to us all
The one place we all go
The one we always try to cheat
But lose to nonetheless
The ultimate equalizer
Taking emperors and peasants alike
Yet on some, death bears down much too soon
Because only of hardships and torture
That has been inflicted by our own kinsmen
Pushing the breaking point of the spirit
Crushing all hope of a better, if any, future
Shoved to making the choice of harming oneself
Because of the idiocy of others
Ignorant fools who look down on others with contempt and hate
Since they do not match the conventions they made for themselves
And with jealousy at their ease of happiness
Making sure to crush them and their joy so as to assure they become as miserable as the others are
Deep in their hearts
All this leading to the culminating moment of pain
When it is no longer tolerable
And all the eyes see is death
Death, my friend
Death, my savior
Death, my hope
Death, my mercy
Death, my deliverance
Come to me, death
Give me my wings to go to somewhere better
This pain cannot be better than death
Death is quick, and ends all
Life is long, and ever-suffering
This is not how you must leave
This is not a fitting end to such a bright person
With such a loving heart
So give yourself a chance to a fitting end
And find an ear cocked to listen
Explain, relate
Even just in whispers
Let the demons come out as the words you speak and stay with us
In life
To Evan - I didn't know you very well but what I did know was someone worth being here now
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC
A hug, a smile, or a simple “hello”
Is all it takes to change someone’s life you know?
Who knows if they were having a terrible day?
And you have given hope in the midst of bleak and gray.
Volunteering can be such a great gift
For both parties involved get a free effective face-lift! (smile)
A humbling experience all-in-all
To see that through struggles they keep standing tall;
And as much as we give, we learn and get so much more
Giving hope, sharing compassion, showing love and helping people soar.
Volunteering helps out those who are in need
By volunteering you give people hope, the tools to succeed.
To see someone suffering, it breaks my heart in two
And tired though when work is done, my strength it does renew.
I see at times the progress of those I call my own
Sometimes small others great; to see how they have grown!
To make a difference in the lives of people everywhere
Every kind act whether great or small shows the world that you care
Go ahead! Dare! To give a hand, or lend an ear,
A shoulder to lean on; have no fear!
If we care for one another how do we express?
By an Act of Random Kindness, but I digress.
Whatever good you do, do it with love and joy in your heart…
For like “Evan Almighty” we are each called to build an A.R.K.
Smile and do something kind for one person today
:)
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
I'm not into Tim Mcgraw.
And might never be.
I'm not even into Faith Evan although country is a vital part of me.
Some might say, I'm missing a lot.
It's just not country music to me.
But acts trying to be rock stars.
Now, name the Statler Brothers or Mel Tillis.
Or Loretta Lynn to Reba then you talking directly to me.
I was country long before the change.
Can name legendary acts that others stars can't name.
Marty Robbons, Roger Miller and others isn't hardly mention today.
Unless someone's doing a tribute act to them.
But these was artist that contribute to the country music today.
They might have worn glitter suits and played guitars.
And yes, some probably was too conceited to be a true star.
I was country long before the change.
I remember Dolly singing upon the Porter Wagoner show.
Yes, long before she had her own personal show.
I even remember those artists Waylon, Willie and others being called outlaws.
And I guess this is when this field beginned to change.
Still I was country long before the change.
But in truth nothing ever remain the same.
We all must accept growth.
Simply for the facts it brings a growth to us.
Even if I'm listening to Carrie Underwood and that Jason dude.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 10:47 AM UTC
It's been over two months.
And it's been getting a little better.
But you are gone. And it's
Not reversible.
You're gone and somehow people forgot.
But I didn't and I refuse to.
You were perfect but now you're gone.
The rope broke your soul.
The tree took you away.
And I just want you back.
Happy birthday Evan...
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
May 05, 2016: I am reposting this in honor of my wife, Karen, who left this mortal earth eight 1/2 years ago. Originally written and posted on September 17, 2014)
This tree-
Is not just any 'ol tree'-
It's "The Grandmother Tree"
Having grown from a broken, eighteen inch high twig,
taken from its mother by the Texas wind.
Now, in just over six years, it rises nearly fifteen feet, for it was planted, and fed, with the love from two grandchildren, who planted it in memory of their grandmother, my wife, Karen, of 40 years, and their surviving grandmother, Linda.
Karen found it on our patio and placed it in a clay *** watered it, and made a support for it to keep it upright. She wanted to plant it where it stands today. She had named it "The Evan and Emily Tree." When she left us, Emily and Evan planted it in the back yard of their home. They named it, "The Grandmother Tree."
The tree is home to the "Guardians", the "Keepers", the "Watchers", sent to protect their memories, then, now, and future. Enlarge it, and you might see them, if you look closely. There are monkeys sitting in the tree, and the silhouettes. To the left, is cast the shadow of a "little man", with arm extended, pointing upward. To the right of the tree, perhaps an ape like creature, or two, and the face of a "mystery man." Set your imagination "free",
For there could be others-
Look, and see.
You could be surprised!
copyright: richard riddle September 17, 2014 12:32pm
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 8:52 PM UTC
When we all go to Memphis, we spread Ludington sand in Matt’s flower beds, like somebody died, and a silence falls as we let the sand sift through our fingers like ashes. It smells like Michigan, like seashells and ***** lake water, and it drowns out the construction workers making new-money houses.
Instead of funeral hymns, we’re blanketed by sawdust and cigarette smoke. We sip and savor Evan Williams and for once, none of us speaks.
Our veins light on fire from the whiskey, and our souls share a collective ache, like our bodies are made from some sort of symbiotic cell.
After The Spreading Of The Sand, we go to a haunted bar where entry is a password, where there’s a frown of a front door, and the exposed brick walls reek of the dead girls upstairs. I think, This is Memphis, a very loud city with louder secrets – the overpowering shadow spreading its fingers in all her corners, silent until she swallows you whole.
Memphis realigns your center –
a snap of the blues, a crack of whiskey and, all of a sudden, things run much more smoothly.
Memphis, she’s known as the City on the Bluff, a place where summer storms split at the river, don’t reconvene ‘til east of Arlington.
Her protection, it’s always there.
Like DNA shared among siblings, blood is always thicker here in her quarters.
Memphis, she tells me I should’ve kicked Worry to the curb all along.
Memphis, she keeps her people safe.
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 7:34 PM UTC
"we're either incredibly bad for each other or incredibly good for each other."
story of my life.
one more drink,
evan williams preferably,with a splash of coke.
i can taste a bitter reminiscent of imperfection,
and it's greatest,
of coarse,
like a collision,
one more drink.
put a gun to my face,
and douse me with mistakes,
smoke me out,
and kiss me good night,
one more drink.
and i'll be done for the night.
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 1:07 PM UTC
This tree
Is not just any 'ol tree-
It's "The Grandmother Tree"
Having grown from a broken, eighteen inch high twig,
taken from its mother by the Texas wind.
Now, in just over six years, it rises nearly fifteen feet, for it was planted, and fed, with the love from two grandchildren, who planted it in memory of their grandmother, my wife, Karen, of 40 years, and their surviving grandmother, Linda.
Karen found it on our patio and placed it in a clay *** watered it, and made a support for it to keep it upright. She wanted to plant it where it stands today. She had named it "The Evan and Emily Tree." When she left us, Emily and Evan planted it in the back yard of their home. They named it, "The Grandmother Tree."
The tree is home to the "Guardians", the "Keepers", the "Watchers", sent to protect their memories, then, now, and future. Enlarge it, and you might see them, if you look closely. There are monkeys sitting in the tree, and the silhouettes. To the left, is cast the shadow of a "little man", with arm extended, pointing upward. To the right of the tree, perhaps an ape like creature, or two, and the face of a "mystery man." Set your imagination "free",
For there could be others-
Look, and see.
You could be surprised!
copyright: richard riddle September 17, 2014 12:32pm
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 4:14 PM UTC
you're breathing in, your chest expanding
and i can see the hymn on the tremble of your lips
your eyes are searching mine in a frenzy and i know you saw cinnamon turn into hurricanes
so you're quiet again and i'm relieved and you're protected and i'm free
yesterday you'd wonder if i could feel the butterflies in my stomach-
well, honey, next week when i'm in tennessee i'll wonder if you can still feel the acid burning in your throat
we were never smart about this- i flip and you garble
you sip and i swallow
we weren't made for tomorrow
and i'll be battling morals while my lips press to jack's, watching you watch me
and wondering if it will be evan next or ezra or- oh, who gives a **** i won't remember their names
it's sick, maybe, but the greatest lesson of barrel and sky is
this won't hurt if you numb it
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC