Going Out


Going Out

He softens his stash with conditioner

In case his lips are kissed.

Chews mint gum for breath

In case his tongue is met.

Deodorizes, adds a scent with cologne,

Presses clothes,

And straightens the home to show no mess.


The music and the moon is hung

In the air around his flight.

But one thing he left a mess

In search of worthiness this night

And his desire to be kissed;

His sloppy, unorganized broken heart

Cause only one can groom what he missed.




Categories: Life, People, Poetry

Tags: , , ,

1 reply

  1. I was good till the end….made me sad.

    Liked by 1 person

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