by on April 25, 2016 :: 0 comments

Suppose I spelled “LOVE”
On your bare stomach in cocaine
And quoted Lord Byron?
I mean, I don’t have another bump to my name,
And I’ve memorized Byron
Like I’ve memorized the wrinkles on my balls…

But the love is still there, right?

It’s all that we have left,
And we’ll trip our faces off on that stuff
Raving through the night
Until our swirling hearts
Separate like grease and water…

Love for years and years or
Love for three hours, forty minutes, and
A fifth of Bacardi:
I love it all because I love you.
Monday’ll still come,
Even if the flight is cancelled,
And I’ll still take off from
That airport, where blue lights
out the small window, past the wings,
Mean goodbye for now.

– John May

editors note:

An erstwhile philandering Lothario with love in his heart and frequent flyer miles to log. – mh clay

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