A ring of water left by your glass
The scent of cigars, decadence, debauchery and sex
the smell of a new page -A blank slate
The only thing untouched. Untainted, in the dimly lit bar
For every word to pour out and soak through every page
Ink smudges left on your fingers- on your glass
down my neck, my arms
forget me not
No comments:
Post a Comment