 [five] |
|
|
NOT GOOD ENOUGH I'm sick of brittle men Who kiss like birds With timid, darting tongues. My torrential love Would erode most men, Into smooth, featureless Shapes without corners (and the corners are the best part). It takes confidence To stick around long enough For peccadilloes to become tolerable, And then to become familiar, And invisible in turn Until your name turns into an adverb, And instead of dramatically or obsessively I simply do things Brandonly And you wouldn't have it any other way. When I fall, It will be from such a height That only you can catch me (Whomever you are) --Brandon Payne |
|