Bring your alone time to my lonesome.
Your fingers bring about the sermons of last week,
The ones that get me to heaven on time.
They strum the bass lines like they need to win the rhythm lottery -
They've already won the losses of my heart.
I do wonder what else those fingers can do
Deep into the nights that go when cynics don't.
YOU ARE READING
SUNSHOWERS
Non-FictionA book of poetry. A book of tears. A book of blood and sweat, too. A book to hold me. Will you let it hold me?
