Brought to you by black eyeliner.
I guess her mouth tastes bitter
Because she didn’t know better
Than to think before you bit her
And to fold before you bet her.
I guess she feels like litter
Because she always saved your letter
Where you wrote the spark that lit her
And knew she’d love you if you let her.
I guess you’re the gold that glitters
Because you lied that you’d be fitter
It was you who simply quit her
After you held her hand and sweetly bit her
I guess you’re why her mouth tastes bitter.
I’m glad to be writing poetry again, even if it is mushy, emotional slop such as this.
Pens at the ready,