The One That Doesn't Know
Ivory skin under dew drop lace.
Bourbon fountains beneath brown hot eyes,
Waiting
Wanting you
On a Barstool,trodden many a morning before.
I, not the first to address her morning approach
Watching,
My every move, quick, perverse, business.
She pours words out of her lips like wine.
Waiting
To approach her.
To tell her.
Wandering,
Turning away from the path i made.
Those hungry cold fire eyes, and ivory skin,
Weathered white from worlds of cold.
Ben Tan
Bourbon fountains beneath brown hot eyes,
Waiting
Wanting you
On a Barstool,trodden many a morning before.
I, not the first to address her morning approach
Watching,
My every move, quick, perverse, business.
She pours words out of her lips like wine.
Waiting
To approach her.
To tell her.
Wandering,
Turning away from the path i made.
Those hungry cold fire eyes, and ivory skin,
Weathered white from worlds of cold.
Ben Tan