Sunday, June 13, 2010

shit, yo.

I miss that feeling; drunk and fleeting.

I can’t follow her; young and needing.

Her hips drip honey; they move so sweet.

I’m a loser, a sucker, and she can’t be beat.

I’m sorry I’m not her. I can’t be first.

I would love you like you were the last drunk on earth.

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