the sickness

notch on notch

we cut our post bed

 

(he's a meal ticket)

(he's a meal ticket)

 

we convince our folks

we convince our friends

 

(he's a meal ticket)

(he's a meal ticket)

 

but sometimes

oh just sometimes

we want to curl up in his bed

we want to lay up 

put our reigns up

have our name never leave his head

 

but we throw ourselves

like the ocean

beats its heart out on the sand

and we tighten

up our grip 

like a queen, in her command 

 

and the price

of just one moment

when a man will take our hand

puts another notch in my stomach

and another meal has gone bland

Reviews

[Sorry Infamous]

This was an interesting read. I felt I could relate to your words. Sometimes things are sweeter in our head and sometimes thing taste better unsaid. I enjoyed this. It was different in a good way. Thanks for sharing.