sticky fingers
it’s always some old song
that makes me think about
a lover from a quarter
century ago
something about those curves
and the way my tongue danced
around them that brings me
back to these empty pages
how those four-hour phone
calls would always end with
sticky fingers
and the rare evenings we got
to spend together, laughing,
talking in bed, us against
the world
at least for a few months
i was too immature and you
were never certain i would be
the right influence for your son
and for an immature fucker
i understood what you meant
i’m sure your life turned out
how you wanted it to
you found the one you didn’t
have to settle for
yes, i remember that painful
conversation and the ramifications
it had for me to this very day
i could say i’m still searching
or i could say the truth and
throw my hands in the air
and admit defeat
Horror Sleaze Trash 