(no subject)
It's always 3am when someone has something thoughtful to write.
Flourescent lights
make-up worn off,
no soap in an unclean sink
to clean the cigarette smell
from under your fingertips
tipsy, girls, tipsy from
Thursday Ladies Night
dressed in tight black
breasts pushing out
loose hips
eyes staring from a downward angled head
she's moving
to be seen by someone,
someone willing to buy her a drink.
Someone might take her home,
to his apartment
(the one he shares with two of his buddies)
they'll hear him fucking her
until he forgets her name.
She'll be forgetting
who she stood for when she was six,
mommies little girl
forgot to love herself.
She's everything I hate.
Though she's beautiful
she's tragic.
I can't be her.
Give me something to stand for-
I say truth
Give me honesty,
not through words by saying what you mean
but by action that comes from a deeper place than your head
action that comes from subconscious.
you'll recieve whatever I can give,
leave poetry out of your dialogue.
Those lines you stole from that movie-
I can see through you know,
it won't take a month
to see
that you're full of shit.
ONCE-a month was what it took,
and alcohol in our blood
put me in your bed,
someone else is there too.
I'll see through it now.
I won't build YOU up either.
Your face drew me to memory,
therefore you must have been worth 5 months
of my heart-
but you were the illusion.
How will I be fooled next?
Or will I let anyone close enough to me?
I'll keep affirming myself that I'm smarter now.
I know everything it took to learn
(no one else)
Time passes,
omitting futile dreams waiting under trees
and driving by houses,
hoping to be seen, stopped, loved, changed.
-If only we would listen to our instincts-
I would have know he told every girl he wanted to fuck that he loved her.
that he couldn't handle a relationship.
he would hate me when it was over.
I didn't really like him enough for the time I gave it.
Enough.
Love wounds.
Flourescent lights
make-up worn off,
no soap in an unclean sink
to clean the cigarette smell
from under your fingertips
tipsy, girls, tipsy from
Thursday Ladies Night
dressed in tight black
breasts pushing out
loose hips
eyes staring from a downward angled head
she's moving
to be seen by someone,
someone willing to buy her a drink.
Someone might take her home,
to his apartment
(the one he shares with two of his buddies)
they'll hear him fucking her
until he forgets her name.
She'll be forgetting
who she stood for when she was six,
mommies little girl
forgot to love herself.
She's everything I hate.
Though she's beautiful
she's tragic.
I can't be her.
Give me something to stand for-
I say truth
Give me honesty,
not through words by saying what you mean
but by action that comes from a deeper place than your head
action that comes from subconscious.
you'll recieve whatever I can give,
leave poetry out of your dialogue.
Those lines you stole from that movie-
I can see through you know,
it won't take a month
to see
that you're full of shit.
ONCE-a month was what it took,
and alcohol in our blood
put me in your bed,
someone else is there too.
I'll see through it now.
I won't build YOU up either.
Your face drew me to memory,
therefore you must have been worth 5 months
of my heart-
but you were the illusion.
How will I be fooled next?
Or will I let anyone close enough to me?
I'll keep affirming myself that I'm smarter now.
I know everything it took to learn
(no one else)
Time passes,
omitting futile dreams waiting under trees
and driving by houses,
hoping to be seen, stopped, loved, changed.
-If only we would listen to our instincts-
I would have know he told every girl he wanted to fuck that he loved her.
that he couldn't handle a relationship.
he would hate me when it was over.
I didn't really like him enough for the time I gave it.
Enough.
Love wounds.