Day 259

Confession: I still think about the smell of tar on your neck
Your hair in all directions
Black mulch in the wind

Your hands so rough but you’d move so soft
Bringing me to your lips
Like a damn cigarette

You’re sittin by the mill lake
Fighting “demons and drink”
I’ll be at the motel
watching workers rise
What would it take
You never cry

I know I left you there
We’ll talk again in a few years
It’s our tradition
Bullshit decisions

I remember that old cabin boat in their yard
Paint chipped, on a trailer
I became yours

Now I’ll keep eyes out for your mama
While you work outta town

I won’t go out for coffee but if you call my phone
At three in the morning
I’ll drive you home

Sound of the day: @brodie105 – men will say ‘im fine’ then write this https://youtu.be/K39fXpyJsx4?si=godMid_xWdzntOdp