when coffee comes at last call <br />the rain still clings to my leg, <br />like a memory, like i wish a you would <br /> <br />only rarely did you rain on me <br /> <br />never the down pour <br /> <br />never the deaths I wanted <br /> <br />always a step away, <br />arms away <br />pushing me further back <br /> <br />the coffee taste like mud <br />so far from what I wanted <br /> <br />sex with you was never great<br /><br />John Kipling Lewis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/last-call-3/
