Mente Mezcla

He stands there  Completely unattainable to me Happy and gay The only one I'll ever love So I don't have to... But truth be told He is not gay And I am not a lover, Just rejection phobic

Proletariat moonshiner, lost in scandal’s rock solid breast Waiting for something lucky to pass your way Waxing jovial, mixing publican Bootleggin Tempter Your eyes dance across lies, Open tip jar laughing You make lovers wary, crush tears to ice And rouse weak mean brave, Hero to toilers and hustlers alike But when the crowd erodes And fluorescent sins rise, making way for broom, mop It’s your chapped hands and sullen mouth I crave Against my breasts and thighs