2020 #34

Hey mister writer

Write a page for me

Tell me about these days

I have no words left to play

Her eyes leave me stumbling

Cut right through me

All I feel is hunger

We’re all just beggars in the street

Left wanting

And our lists are growing

But I see the sunset through the trees

I think I would be alright

With just one more drink tonight

If I could hear her laugh

And not to cry

If I could see those eyes

And open up my heart

Far past the smoke inside my mind

for this, her dagger…

Hey mister writer

Write a page for me

I’m left caught inside a muse

I’ll catch up to you

All I have is this hunger

The world is in its slumber

Maybe tomorrow will be kind ….

To the muse

To you

We will all have somewhere to go

In the sunset of my mind

The words will all align

And I’ll be there with you

3 thoughts on “2020 #34

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