erosion

I'm sorry darling at my age my deep is out of your depth

and pity that your deep is a tad too shallow 

We could argue till the cows come home 

but on such grounds and matters 

the people of my age do not wallow

I could spit rhymes, metaphorical constructs

create many big things akin to what could be poetry 

it is only percieved dust for a generation new

who can't even deep-throat nor swallow

This rhyme that you are so in the rhyme of 

is a fragment of nothingness but a pit of mire

to express is the least of your skills forget imagine

yet all I read is the want to express a desire

let the rhyming be, 

let me just probably scribble sweet nothings

but these flows will only be a rain of fire

Until the meandering hills of your heart roams free like our's does 

your attempt to valiantly express will only be dire