She was an artist on top of me, and soaked my sheets with poetry.
TONY COBLEShe was an artist on top of me, and soaked my sheets with poetry.
TONY COBLEShe’s like a jar of butterflies, waiting to be opened.
TONY COBLESummer looks the same. But last summer she loved me.
TONY COBLEI gave her address to my soul. Ans she fucked the mailman.
TONY COBLEI messed up a lot of things. I called it poetry.
TONY COBLEShe’s no rose. But in her I see the beauty of thorns.
TONY COBLEThere’s this thing that hurts inside me all the time. Because I know what’s coming.
TONY COBLEShe wanted love. So I fed her, inch by inch.
TONY COBLESometimes there are no words. Sometimes, it’s just poetry.
TONY COBLERomance is a dream. I can get better shit at the liquor store.
TONY COBLEShe wanted romance. I just wanted to fuck the stars out of her eyes.
TONY COBLEShe was only a collection of flaws and she was beautiful.
TONY COBLEHer memory still lingers, like a cockroach in my heart.
TONY COBLEThis heart. It’s broke. I don’t want it anymore.
TONY COBLELove lives. and dies. as fast as butterflies.
TONY COBLELets die. Alone. Like we always do.
TONY COBLE