Acquainting The Bustle

She is the kind of girl to flash you and walk away
A tease
The kind that sit on the corner of your memory
Persistent , she won’t go away
She comes back in the weird places
Similar napkins ,she jotted her number on
The alcohol store you pass on the way home
That reminder
3 a.m. ten flights of stairs
She fell down
Bleeding in the backseat of the car
As she repeated that drunk girl mantra
I am just an ugly soul
Homicidal death threats to herself
You sit there wondering how
This beautiful flower has so many thorns
As her soul shreds you to pieces
Your only release is
That sad jazz melody
Playing over and over
Drowning out her memory
Her voice
You sink into your bed
Hug the loneliness
Yet her scent is in the air

I hung
Heart bigger than how
I’m hung,
Sniggers like nuts in snickers
Get under my skin and clutch triggers
You are all I need
Worth more than all I have
Less than perfect is the perfect I want
Yet you set your camps intents
Intense like maroon dessert sands
Your mantra is no more tantric
Than rancid Kcufing with your mind
My blood curdles like milk because I’ve been burned by the cow
Get off the steps of my memory and marry me
I’ll soak up your blood with my ivory and call it the path to never forgetting

This is a crime of passion that I’m aiding and abetting
Walk with me now, I’ll hug your loneliness
We can be the ish
Make me your only mess
Yes you are the girl who is prone to tease
But I am your cross and Yogi wont bare me

Impregnate me with your sins and I will bare them all

Pews made of cotton sheets

I genuflect

As I confess

I still need him

I need him to be more then a few faded memories

As I clutch to whiskey bottle

Screams bouncing off walls not in ecstasy

Silent hymns

More mourning then hallelujah’s

I feel the distance

More then your warmth

My walls may keep me secure

Yet the door can be opened

For the right price

How much are you willing to offer your heart back

When I already have it in my firm grasp

I am not the queen of hearts

Just good at breaking them

Yet i am also good at taking them

She said a diva is a female version of a hustler
In the worlds oldest profession who can really rustle her?
She be, on her grind, grinding, make up to wake up
How do you spell binding….P.I.M..P
Got the goods for take up.
Spread her rug for sale in minute or hourly turns
As she digs in her nails, ain’t only his pocket that burns
Make music and clap to it,
Half what he earns
How many halves make a whole girl?
Just the ones taking his sperms
She’s on her grind because a diva is a female version of a hustler

Crack for her crack because the rough stuff hurts
All she wants is a lover man not a brother from the corner
He got a nose for the cooking and only wants to put it on her
Big Black, China white, Charlie and Daddy
Bruises for excuse why she wouldn’t bareback gladly
She will happily bivouac, he just wants to beaver wack.
Till she met You yet you’re too nice to be with that
She has a history, a litany of misery, yet You ….
Want to unlock the prison and make her the captain of your mill

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