Pinkie Finger

when i was drunk i rang you and you didn't pick up your phone.
i came to your house and bashed the door until my 
knuckle bones ripped in two. my fingers were 
ripped from my palm from trying to reach you.

i left my pinkie finger in your post box.
when you found it in the morning you 
rang me up and told me that you had it for breakfast
along with my dignity and left me alone 
with my infidelity.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

Poem

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Knowles Avatar
May 14, 2009 at 7:30 PM
very odd... but i loved it. awesome poem. imagination is a great gift and sure have alot of it :)
Hudson Avatar
May 14, 2009 at 7:14 PM
good grief! you certainly have imagination!-AA
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