Full.

“Fill her up”, I said

As I sat on my tired ass,

And pointed at my old glass,

I hadn’t the need for class.

“Fill her up”, I said

And sipped on that red wine,

And thought back to a time,

I thought that I was fine.

“Fill her up” I said

Pondered my regret,

Of the time we met,

And I got her wet.

“Fill her up” I said

Shook my own head,

At where she’d lead,

My black heart dead.

“Fill her up” I said,

Now I hurt,

Blood on shirt,

And her skirt.

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About Greg Moss

25 year old English and Media Graduate based in Manchester, UK. Contact me at: literatureandlethargy@gmail.com
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