The Blues
when Regret presses its heavy palms
down upon my shoulders,
looks me dead in the eye and nods –
‘I told you so’
I shrug,
return the gaze.
grab each wrist. and smile –
‘Hey, motherfucker, want to dance?’
The Blues
when Regret presses its heavy palms
down upon my shoulders,
looks me dead in the eye and nods –
‘I told you so’
I shrug,
return the gaze.
grab each wrist. and smile –
‘Hey, motherfucker, want to dance?’