Hot Tin Roof


Inside her utterly animated mind
Lively emotions dance precariously
Like a black cat on a hot tin roof

As she walks through fields of bitterness
Tightly holding onto ambiguous thoughts
That may touch on his cloaked sensitivities

Sacrosanctities he keeps secretly hidden
Beneath his revered drinking jacket
While keeping time with Jack, Jim and Johnnie

Who console his wounded manly pride
As they slide down his parched throat
Keeping him from withering away at the seams

So she keeps her secret animosities well hidden
Underneath her pink parasol of silence
As she sullenly sits on a bench of regrets

Under a tender handful of weeping willows
That delicately sway God's given truth
In misbegotten words blowing her way

Where she ponders how to speak thoughts
In a charming southernly womanly way
So as not to harm his all too manly pride

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