Good intentions

My good intentions lay crumpled and dirtied,
cast aside, scattered to the whims of wherever they fall.
They'll be discovered soon,
shamed memory will cosh my mind.
My good intentions on the floor,
my good intentions laying in the gusset of your knickers.
Your knickers laying stripped and forgotten,
with my good intentions,
on the dirty, dirty floor.

I stood proud with good intentions,
Yeah, we know what goes before a fall.
With those good intentions I would be home soon.
Guess I clung with vain hope to those good intentions.
I had good intentions, but I needed good deeds.

The first beer was not a mistake,
but after the fourth not to have a fifth would have been the mistake.
Or so it seemed.
Not sure a drunkards perception counts for much,
not as much as the credit limit on this card.

As her hips gyrated and the music thumped,
I ordered another drink.
Well I tried, the order was lost between the hoped for promises of her surgeon sculpted breasts.
I ordered women and wine,
my good intentions falling closer to the floor.

I never made it back to your door.
Got lost along the way.
Had good intentions,
they got crumpled and spoiled on the floor.

Hit by a car,
smashed, up-ended killed against the floor
Walking back, at that hour,
trying to salvage good intention.
Scraping what I could from the crumpled gusset of the knickers,
of some whore.

You never knew what kept me from your door,
what late night errand had me in that part of town.
Do you suspect of my sin?

Or,

Is all you hear a silent din.