PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

clothes are just clothes to me

but what i can't touch is your feelings

you hide them in your gargoyle cubicle

disarm in an unmanned confessional



i can massage the stress off your shoulders

still can't send home your souls marching soldiers

these crusades began before the crucificion

and won't end till a man tapes wood to his carcass



lady, what good would i be to you then

don't you know that day's never heaven sent

and when its too late for you to unfold for me

then you'd know i'd die for you, anyday really



i'm not God and i'm not the devil

don't beg a Savior to make it simple

i'm not looking to complicate things

your hearts in your hands and mines observing



this holiday you've taken from where you want to be



lady, what good would i be to you then

don't you know that day's never heaven sent

and when its too late for you to unfold for me

then you'd know i'd die for you, anyday really