Hand in hand in hand in hand
they sat.
He held it by just continuing to hold,
and sure – that’s a strategy, too,
when it comes to women.

She looked ripe to cry,
a blonde and pedestrian sorrow.
Disappear here:
“When we kiss, I feel NOTHING.”

Worlds of want which
wither on the vine,
at the end of her
thousand-yard stare
(or 914.4-metre stare
for all my homies on the metric).

One day (or in one day)
she’ll up and leave ‘im
so I wonder:
“Who will it be
who tears heaven asunder?”

It’s a basic bitch world
and that is how it’ll stay.