Making Faces.
Hot breath, cold bus glass, finger.
Eyes, a nose, a mouth.
Wide and blue-eyed you were
Got lost in them most times.
Sausage, bacon, two eggs.
Mum says 'don't'.
I'm caught up making faces
At the table, like most places,
When I ought not to be.
Kisses always sweetest with you,
Tasted like sugar and nicotine,
Bad for me, highly addicitive.
I'm craving, I'm making faces.
Larisa Rzhepishevska
Mon 18th Oct 2010 23:46
Beautiful poem. I like to make faces.