The Waiting Fucktor

Met your psychotic eyes, crashed at your perfect grin, saw the setting sun, got salted at the beach, had a few beers and so I had to say this.

To wait. It kills.

I wish I could kiss.

Take you away,

bring you back,

bid you farewell

but remind you,

I'll always be there.

Maybe I won't.

Maybe you won't care.

But you the sun that sets,

leave a tear in my eye.

As you reach for her the sea

and not me the sky.

So,

To wait it kills. I wish I could kiss.

Now go have another local beer.