I Someone's been talking about you Behind your back; Someone's spreading lies about you Like an old time hack. Someone's been saying things
By Conrad Ilesiaabout a month ago in Poets
Amber’s body had never felt so good, not even during our short-lived marriage, her hips resisting my exploring hands on this hot July night outside our bar, tastes of our last shots on our breath.
By Conrad Ilesia2 months ago in Marriage
I Drinks on the bar— Confessions in the mirror; Truth in the dark— A lost soul cries out to you Amber. She whispers her wants.
By Conrad Ilesia2 months ago in Poets
I want yahweh to scrape my soul clean, To create within me a new spirit, To make of me a wanderer upon this earth, To make me wonder what it is I cannot see.
By Conrad Ilesia3 months ago in Poets
I I have seen roses bleed red and The truest hearts beaten blue but To myself I remain true (Or try to). You stood beside my attempts,
By Conrad Ilesia8 months ago in Poets
Ten February nineteen forty two, the snow looked at me askew from a ditch in Russia (or was it askance) Dusk is falling with my hopes of survival.
By Conrad Ilesia10 months ago in Poets
I I fell in love At zero hour With the sweat coming off my bottle, Waiting and waiting, ready to throttle. I tried to text her again
By Conrad Ilesiaabout a year ago in Poets
I We were always an illusion, Macy, my sweet delusion. I see it all now. And oh but how. Just a few seconds more of
I. (The Middle) It is after 2 a.m., a long night of drinking behind us. We park outside, silent for a moment, engine running, bar noises ringing in my ears.
By Conrad Ilesiaabout a year ago in Criminal
``` “Je suis un, défait par une femme.” ``` I A beetle murmured From the dirt, “Here comes the sun,” And I believed it.
I Today was a hard day. Hell, they are all hard days: clients, staff, vendors, all lying to me. Lies, lies, lies. What’s an honest man to do? Lie back. To my wife, my colleagues, judges. It only seems fair.
By Conrad Ilesiaabout a year ago in Filthy
¤ EDIT ¤ SAVE Amber. I hate using the name your mother (God rest her soul.) gave you. Très formál. I guess six years after the divorce, I shouldn’t call you < babe > .
By Conrad Ilesia2 years ago in Families