When we fight,
You get to walk away while
I bleed out on your bed.
It leaves me with this empty feeling
Even if it’s over
A painting
That you see light in
That is just a bunch
Of scribbles to me.
Or if we fight over
Jazz music
Which seems to make you smile
When it’s only a loud clustered
Cacophony to me.
Brash in brass.
So,
I take my synthetic smiles
In the morning
And pray
That I won’t see
A jazz player
Or a
Splatter painting.
- Read more about Brash in Brass
- Log in or register to post comments
- Sprout