They Call It Cassidy
I don't know what it is or what it is called
but all I know I's it makes me want to fall
Breathing it in and soaking it up
makes feel like I can't get further up
I go day to day just living by the moments
but when I in counter this thing I can't think about any other being
it's like a drug or a depressant
when I hold it, it's almost like an esent
it's so gorgeous and smooth
that when I'm around it I can just Cruz
when I sit down and think about it and ask myself
what is it?
what could this thing be?
a buddy once told me
its a girl, her name is Cassidy.
Copyright © Matthew Durrett | Year Posted 2008
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment