I without feeling,
And you least of all.
This is how I like to draw it;
Smooth and small.
No spill bigger than a pin,
And blood without the vinegar in.
If we hold our eyes like that I’m
Afraid to stall and spin,
If we keep our grip you’re bound to say
“You’ve got her grin”
As if there even was a begging to begin
Where the mask started and the skin of the scalp ended,
And whether you were looking at me or
If you just pretended
Tomorow is always a mile long high
Trying to get you to smile,
On a fifteen minute ride
Of fake goodbyes and fake goodnights
And made up kiss and falsifieds
One short connection and you die.
Copyright 2016 Golden Star Poetry