The taste of love
It is tomorrow
and the feeling of your kiss
is still lingering.
It is tomorrow
and the feeling of your kiss
is still lingering.
This shaded barroom
certainly isn’t heaven
but it has spirit.
How do I tell her
what I’m feeling inside;
what I’m trying to hide?
Honesty’s a lure
that promises a cure,
but that I’ve tried
and been denied.
Of truth I am unsure.
But if I hide my face
and run away…
if I so fear disgrace,
then why should they stay?
So I once again, with bravery,
face the consequences of my honesty.
Eggs are so useful
for breakfast, lunch, and dinner –
they’re renaissance food.
How do you let someone in
when the weight of your sin
would mark your hands in red
and chase them far from your bed…
How do you even begin?
I like my pancakes
in silver dollar towers
with butter rooftops.
Give me today’s soup
and half of a club sandwich,
please hold the mayo.
Little black dress,
such a mess;
you reveal, yet deny,
and draw every wanton eye.
Gold hair,
down to her derriere;
but between her thighs?
Are her tresses lies?
Red lips,
tempting a kiss;
she’ll make you pay
and draw your soul away.
Pale demeanor,
contrary to the demon in her.
Dear garden salad,
you are so good for me but
we need to break up.
Though you’ve opened the door
I just can’t be sure
cause the way you say my name,
it sounds just the same
as those who’ve hurt me before.