You say gravy and biscuits
Instead of biscuits and gravy,
Your fingers are callused from
Years of metal strings.
You like to listen to Guy Clark
Or John Prine on a hot, summer day.
Your converse are worn and faded,
With holes and no laces.
You respect the feeling of
Riding twisty roads under the
Pure blue sky.
You drink your rum and Ale-8,
Like a true Kentuckian would:
Fast and often.
You are my shoulder to cry on,
And the arms that embrace me
When my heart is broken.
Your jokes are out of line,
But never fail to make me
Crack a smile.
You've given me the chance
To get to know the person you are.
And I could not be more grateful,
Because you've become my best friend.
(the day is 234 which is really satisfying haha anyway, yeah, this is so my best friend lmao and it sucked bYE GOTTA MCR)
YOU ARE READING
CCCLXV - Poetry (Part 2)
PoetryPart 2 of my 365--this year: 366--challenge. A poem a day for a year.
