6 of them

The end of a thing
They say is better than the beginning
But like most fruits
The suckling is sweeter and softer
In the beginning.
But every time you show up
You stair up memories of a beginning
Which stony ending
Hit the rocks long ago.
I now know
What it means
To have friends like plastics And enemies without bitterness
To love and let live
To keep the blood in,
And spit saliva.
Like sitting in the cold
And not play with fire
Or hold your hands

Bose