Gord

2024-11-06 06:52 am

Rose gold chrome horns,
Like cardboard clothes, 
Cold, associates sorrow, 
Unworn, uneven tomorrow. 
So bow your head forward,
Lift yourself up, divide me whole. 

I stand naked before you, 
Like I play with hands both,
Like I tap, dance, as a show,
I do for all you know, I suppose.

Upon her form, both hands,
Avacado toast, buttery bread,
Guitar solo overtop the prose,
Alcohol in her mouth, floor, 
Softcore porn, popcorn snow, 
Relationships in rondo form.

I just wish I knew something more.