Moresby Sun

He's making her laugh
I can hear them from here
I can't bring myself to walk over there for fear
That I'm not enough
That I'm not that tough
That I'm "too noble, too good" and she likes them rough
The confidence on a brother
I shy away
So I sit here, far away
In the dimming shade
Of this short palm
Under the burning heat of the Moresby sun
He's making her smile
I can see her from here
It's clear
And painful to watch
Half of my heart wants to be near
The other half wants to drown in a beer
But all she is just draws me in
Tainting
And painting
My shaking limbs
In an ivory coat of bliss
This pain disguised by this elegance
Like the benevolence
Of a humble palm
Lonesome in the Moresby sun
He has no problem finding
Words to throw her way
Wind up and lay
It on thick like sheets
In the cold
I feel cold
In this heat
And I'm not sweating
I'm wasting
Basting
Tasting
Eventual defeat
I might as well leave
And sooner face the rain
Instead of the pain
Of the Moresby sun
©_malwar3