poetry

my lyrical demise part XVI

It’s a runaround tale. Where too many, are willing to tell. Anything and everything… That they most likely, misunderstood. Half naked ladies, doesn’t exactly make them whores. And a old fashioned respect, goes both ways… Ladies and gentlemen. Then there’s these fools, sending dick pictures… And trying to play a game, that even the ladies play nowadays. Hoping to get something back. Can’t you see… What this lacks. Where’s the heart and soul, in it all. Don’t you want? Something that will last. Don’t you want a home… Are you not tired, of feeling like… A hotel room.
And I’m not placing judgement. Because I’ve done my share. But my question to you is… Where will you go? When it all falls through. And you’re left out in the cold. Because you haven’t grown cold. You’ve just grown old, without anyone to hold. A crumbling foundation of lust… Will never hold. But love, now that… You can grow old to.
-Joshua Ryan Stewart

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