Old rusted soul well oiled ready for anything,
I found a way to show some composure behind a newly lit cigarette
but I can’t stop these toes from a nonstop tapping.
I been in a muttering room losing my mind counting down the days,
waiting on a single word to reassure me that this is all like riding a bike.
Nice clean slacks,
bouquets in hands,
these palms are sweaty
and I hope you can’t read these twitches as I try to come off cool.
I like how you explained
I like how you explained this...I almost felt my own palms sweating...lol!!! ~peace~
..................
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "
Ha,always happy to share the
Ha,always happy to share the nervousness!
"Demons run when a good man goes to war. Nights will fall and drown the sun when a good man goes to war."