Please. be. mine.
Title: The Boy Who Kisses Too Much
Author: slasher48 / bad_bad_books
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Three of them. I bet you can pick them up, my fantastically smart lovelies!
Disclaimer: This one's all about the real Bam and the reasons behind it. But those reasons are in his head, not mine -- so don't ask me if they're true. And don't sue. I'd like to know, but here I am saying I don't.
Summary: A poem to whet your appetite for the story that's coming (soon, if not today). -- Prompt 019. Whore
Dedicated to BamBam, of course. May he always be worth writing about, but hopefully for things classier than this. Still, I love him past his pain.
There once was a boy from West Chester
Who let his inner wounds fester
And upon the mouths of those he met
He worked very hard to forget
They call(ed) him the Boy Who Kisses Too Much
A friend of old with a heart of gold learned
About for whom and why the boy’s heart burned
Unable to trust he would not stray
This friend could not help but run away
And through the years they had lost touch
A friend, older, with a heart, bolder, believed
That he was a gift to be received.
She allowed herself to be snared
Convincing herself he truly cared
But a woman could only endure so much
He had already met his prince
And he had not lived the same since
So now he and his heart just wait
On a day he can’t help but hate
As he picks at a cake so Dutch
They all watch his eyes
As he tells them lies
“My prince will come,” insists he
But the always empty yard does not agree
So to the cake and to kisses will he clutch
Until one September morn
He will wake with a soul so torn
The door, it will pound
His body will vibrate with the sound
And the prince’s arms will feel like his hutch
But watch him on the day he turns thirty one
The liquor makes his face shine bright as the sun
But through all the chaos and clatter
It is clear there is something the matter
Everything around him is a crutch
Because beyond round baby blues
Underneath a guise of happy and the gloss of booze
He has crawled to hide away from the light
And in the grave of eternal night
Is the Boy Who Kisses Too Much
***
Happy Thirty-First, Brandon Cole!
I hope you've got more than picking at your cake and boozing it up in mind.
As for you sweethearts reading this, just let me know what you thought.
And let's just say...he might get his wish in the story. Maybe?
So do you want it? Do you need it? Do you gotta, gotta have it?
I am waiting for your words! ♥
Author: slasher48 / bad_bad_books
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Three of them. I bet you can pick them up, my fantastically smart lovelies!
Disclaimer: This one's all about the real Bam and the reasons behind it. But those reasons are in his head, not mine -- so don't ask me if they're true. And don't sue. I'd like to know, but here I am saying I don't.
Summary: A poem to whet your appetite for the story that's coming (soon, if not today). -- Prompt 019. Whore
Dedicated to BamBam, of course. May he always be worth writing about, but hopefully for things classier than this. Still, I love him past his pain.
There once was a boy from West Chester
Who let his inner wounds fester
And upon the mouths of those he met
He worked very hard to forget
They call(ed) him the Boy Who Kisses Too Much
A friend of old with a heart of gold learned
About for whom and why the boy’s heart burned
Unable to trust he would not stray
This friend could not help but run away
And through the years they had lost touch
A friend, older, with a heart, bolder, believed
That he was a gift to be received.
She allowed herself to be snared
Convincing herself he truly cared
But a woman could only endure so much
He had already met his prince
And he had not lived the same since
So now he and his heart just wait
On a day he can’t help but hate
As he picks at a cake so Dutch
They all watch his eyes
As he tells them lies
“My prince will come,” insists he
But the always empty yard does not agree
So to the cake and to kisses will he clutch
Until one September morn
He will wake with a soul so torn
The door, it will pound
His body will vibrate with the sound
And the prince’s arms will feel like his hutch
But watch him on the day he turns thirty one
The liquor makes his face shine bright as the sun
But through all the chaos and clatter
It is clear there is something the matter
Everything around him is a crutch
Because beyond round baby blues
Underneath a guise of happy and the gloss of booze
He has crawled to hide away from the light
And in the grave of eternal night
Is the Boy Who Kisses Too Much
***
Happy Thirty-First, Brandon Cole!
I hope you've got more than picking at your cake and boozing it up in mind.
As for you sweethearts reading this, just let me know what you thought.
And let's just say...he might get his wish in the story. Maybe?
So do you want it? Do you need it? Do you gotta, gotta have it?
I am waiting for your words! ♥