With space and opportunity being the only boundary,
My feet smashes the cotton beneath my sole,
The rush of anticipation is what it sounds to me,
Each passing moment I can feel the intensity grow.
His eyes burn by the sight of her, his ears screech by her voice,
Torched by untruths and the reaction of heat,
There was a word created called forgive but also one called choice,
A word means nothing unless the person is willing to speak.
They call it saying “fuck it” when fucking feels good,
The touch, the feel, the smell, the sight, the taste,
Actions show signs that when noticed is understood,
Not knowing is like hearing sounds in a dark large space.
When you give up on love does love give up on you,
Maybe the people, but you always expect one,
Is the good times over weighing the drama put upon you,
Lord I Pray NOW, EARLY, for the next ONE.
Munchie Way
