Pocket Full Of BulletsA Poem by Abigale LeCavalierI had a dream that I was loved once; it never occurred to me to open my eyes. But that's not so, I just didn't want to. I didn't want to see the empty spaces on the other side of the bed. It doesn't matter. I can still smell the last person I had there, but I'm not sure if it was a woman or a man. And they never stay long after it's over, they never stay for eggs or a beer. They just leave when they notice, I have pistols tattooed on my hips. And a pocket full of bullets. © 2015 Abigale LeCavalierFeatured Review
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5 Reviews Added on May 24, 2015 Last Updated on May 24, 2015 Author
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