Such A Classic

one.

she keeps the polaroid in her pocket

a pocket picture

that is picture perfect

a time to remind her

a time to rewind her

back to the days when

he stood holding her

smiling as if he had

the whole world in his arms

back when family dinners

were tacos and steaks

not  a six pack and cigarettes

with a side of regret

when the Christmas tree may have been small

but their hearts were big

and though she was no bigger than his thumb

(he was so tall)

she was not afraid at all

every night before bed

when sugar plums should be dancing in her head

fingers trace the worn out film

as she tries to find the words to say to him

after all, she is holding a thousand of them

but she can but mutter one:

why

unreachable

i was never one to have two night tables

that were the same height

at my bedside

(how i hate symmetry)

but without you here I’m finding it awfully hard

to turn on the alarm

(why did I put it up where only you could reach?)

so i guess i’ll just have to sleep the rest of my life away…

Everyone Else.

unlike everyone else.

because

they wear red.

it is blood of their defeat;

they conquered their worlds.

I wear purple and blue

my soul

on my sleeve

for heartless I remain to be.

but

my heart knew what I needed to do

to be perfect enough

see, it is hard to keep

my glass half full

when you’re always taking a sip.

my heart:

you took that away the day I woke up

to find I have no choice but to quit

because you are like everyone else.

you conquered your world with other girls.

Married Men

I would love to tell you how I feel

cutting and pasting words from the nearest dictionary.

I would be keen on cutting into your flesh,

so I could s l i c e up your insides

with scissors.

With glue, I could

take a dab and

place it

above

your drunken eyelids,

for they are shut too far and you,

you can not see.

I want to tell you how I feel

cutting and pasting words from the nearest dictionary.

I could use words like:

revulsion

disgust

loathe

distrust

virago

fucking hoe

I need to tell you how I feel

cutting and pasting words from the nearest dictionary;

don’t worry dear,

I’d make it pretty enough

for you to hang up.

Pretty enough

for your wall to wear,

as well as you wear:

conniving

loose

use-

less.

Or, do you like your walls bare?

Naked

like your skin

as you push him in your trap?

And lock the keys

outside the car,

so that you can

choose the views he sees

while thinking he pleasures you

with his hand and not

all that green.

No.

You may not think with anything

but what is between your open legs,

but you are

far more

clever than you seem.

No.

You may not understand a word

written on this paper

(feelings flowing through the letter’s veins

like the poison that runs through you)

for you have proven to be nothing but

absurd.

Only whores go after married men.  

Foolish

she holds on tightly to his bed post

much more tightly than 

his love notes 

(those can crumble, metal doesn’t)

he can thrust his heavy 

heart

down her throat

while her hands turn blue

with the choking butterflies that flew

from her stomach to

her sweaty fingertips

drip drip drip 

light a match 

watch it burn 

ink 

run

black 

heart? attack!

her mind because she can see

and love must be blind 

chains of events 

locked so tight

around her neck

she can’t even breathe a bit of truth

mutter the lies  

silence the cries 

as he breathes in her ear

try, try, try..

break free, steer clear

but she knows she can’t take advice from fools

for they’ll only use you.

(she needs to learn 

he is a user

with all intentions 

to fool her)