There are 5 articles on this title. You are reading the article ranked and rated #5 by Helium's members.
FRIDAY NIGHTS
Sitting on park benches,
Battling with the cold,
Searching for your gloves
And avoiding the journey home.
Eyes wide, mind numbed,
Sky turning, bright to dim,
There's drink, there's drugs
And then there's him.
You're closed throated,
Tight stomached,
Nervous but acting calm.
And failing, badly.
He's just as bad
Though it's easy to miss
Laughs it off with the boys,
While he's thinking of your kiss.
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FRIDAY NIGHTS
Sitting on park benches,
Battling with the cold,
Searching for your gloves
And avoiding the journey home.
Eyes wide,
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