Pizzaiolo, social worker, brewer, writer
There’s always a Josh Who loves to play the bad boy And sweep your lover away. And he always comes At the zenith of mistakes
By Jack Friendabout a year ago in Poets
I’m too poor, for five dollar words I’ll use ones I can afford Because money ain’t everything Mama’s always said it to me.
Can we all admit That we’re scared as shit? And our vehemence Is a response to this? I’ll drop my weapon If you will drop yours
Do you hate the South? I do, but it hated me first When I wasn’t nothin’ but sweet In poisonous, endless Indian summer Boiled in a wet, Waxahatchee sunburn
The somber of the night Goes away Daylight repeats the steps of its dance Copying the sunrise And again She says things that a lover would say
Your lantern lights a hopeless dark But it goes without saying, you are no friend Your knife still shines, hidden in your cloak
At our best, we made such sweet music But crickets sing your verses now To the dark of our night porch I won’t leave my light on
You start with presentation And a spunky sounding name Pink is supposed to be fun Playful, cute, and comforting. The bitterness is still there
Nothing makes me smash my delete button Faster than feeble attempts to say You are the star that I orbit. Running out of oxygen
I won’t tell you I’m lonesome, Drop a sack of sour grapes, On the table by the dip. I just want a connection, Embarrassed to beg for one,
I feel like a bird And not in a good way Everything is a stressor A threat I have toothpicks for bones All I have is an amazing, incredible ability to fly away from anything potentially threatening
Pillow kisses in deep dew drop grass Laughing at this crazy world together In a dank, blowing dandelion breeze And believing, like kids, in living forever
