High Wire

Every time I write, I play with fire

I know it is just a matter of time before my luck expires

When you find my words there will be hell to pay for what I didn’t say to your face

The dicks I didn’t count, the stories I didn’t recount you.

After all I have given, how can you think I owe you anything but grace?

Yet I step out on this high wire, teetering and tottering over the mire

You are up in my business and have no business of your own

I warn you: if you mess with me, you will be the one without a home

Stop trying to squeeze me dry like a lime

With love an patience, all is yours in time

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s