You held life in dead hands
holding steady to the ideal of this man
who knew how to stick it out
Her purse on one shoulder and her coat on the other
one palm on her waist, an excuse to get closer
you held out the tree,to her disapproving composure
she smiled looking at the man across the row
he was giving his girlfriend a necklace, gold.
You'll never win her this way, you know.
Just read below about your mission to write stories about people on the bus. I think that's really cool.
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