Richard Buckner Six Years
I went down to meet my maker
And the water tastes salty
What's on my lips.
The letter you sent me
I found a good friend
but let her go too easily
And what's on my mind.
The last time you kissed me
It was a foam splint-shackle
And twenty hours on a train
Six years and I wonder
If you were worth the pain
I'm wasting away wondering
If I'll always love you only
And what's holding my heart
Is the way you used to hold me
