Not drunk, violent and so explosive that it impacts, scarring memory... No, instead it is sober, timid and meek.
This is how it ends on a Wednesday night.
It was the Socratic Method to begin with questions yielding answers wrapped in sheets and arms and legs... yet everything comes full circle,
"Is this how it ends?"
"What do you think?"
I remember her hands skipping the surface of my face illuminated in the near-light of the evening's passion.
"What are you doing?"
"You have a beautiful smile," She'll say. Words that put a small fire in my heart, but later will cut it... bleed it,
"Around your eyes and the edge of your lips you'll have a lot of lines from smiling so much."
And I'm not smiling so much anymore.
this is like my beerblog.
This is how it ends on a Wednesday night.
It was the Socratic Method to begin with questions yielding answers wrapped in sheets and arms and legs... yet everything comes full circle,
"Is this how it ends?"
"What do you think?"
I remember her hands skipping the surface of my face illuminated in the near-light of the evening's passion.
"What are you doing?"
"You have a beautiful smile," She'll say. Words that put a small fire in my heart, but later will cut it... bleed it,
"Around your eyes and the edge of your lips you'll have a lot of lines from smiling so much."
And I'm not smiling so much anymore.
this is like my beerblog.