whisper, my mister
slip on your slippers
you’ll get a blister
you didn’t have a sister
but i miss her
we could’ve played twister in the winter
walked new york, held as we shivered
the color was red
but turned black as it withered
i’m ready, i slither
i’m not bitter
i consider the river, how it moves forever
gaze in the mirror, i see a killer, a sinner
occasionally a glimmer – it’s usually after liquor
it flickers
but i remember
not to pull the trigger