12-03-2015, 08:22 AM
Gaining Fingers
I fed you every day
with fat fisted hands.
Our summers baked
like deserts, dragged
across the sand.
They kept you in
the far field
and I stayed
while others drifted off,
told my secrets
in a drunken bar
every time we forgot.
I had to watch
your muscle melt
each morning as I walked
the lane.
I'd catch a glimpse
of silver grey, that
stole another piece away.
Still each day we would comfort
each other.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out