9d • Poetry
Joe
Lips, smooth as bourbon over your rocks
Dressed as sharp as the sound of your bass
Those hazel eyes tell a story of deep
Different from the typical joes she pours for
Soul athirst-Upstate creator
Gambler
Your single cigar more than a nights tip
Dazzlin and dizzying every dame that walks in
Until your eyes met hers
Midnight calls, your wondering gaze
Grew aflame
Fixation we shall call
A muse you must use
The spiral playing a wicked game of use
Turning lust into beautiful art
A gallery leaving even the greats speechless
The fame and glory you gain
As your charm fades her beauty
To rust
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Joe
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