my boo left today
I wrote this a while ago. it doesn't really portray how i feel right now but i find that a lot of us find ourselves a little lost in love occasionally. Danny left today. bittersweet does not begin to describe his visits. As much as I love being around him, the good times only last until the terrible goodbye we inevitably have to share. So here's my piece.
My 3 inch heels bore a hole into the carpet. As we lay on the bed, I threw them haphazardly, like you did my heart. Entwined in cheap rough sheets that hardly conceal those not-so-hidden spots of imperfection. You know which ones I'm talking about. The ones you worked so hard to melt off but gave up. You seem to think there's too much of you, but there still isn't enough of you to go around.
Bitter sweet memories dipped in a sour apple martini. You asked for it dry, straight and on the rocks. Then you drowned in it.
You whispered into my skin but I forget what you said. Sex soothes. Sex heals. Sex makes you forget. I forgot my coat at the bar. You know, the one with my heart on its sleeve.
We lay tangled in 150 count cotton sheets of the worst caliber. We wallow in my 150 count lovesick memories. Did you lose the ones of Italian silk? The ones that heal our wounds, welts and whimpers. The ones that inspire us again, to love softly, sweetly, smoothly.
I pick up my heels, my heart, my slip. I'm slipping anyway. My rough fingers smooth over the small of your neck. You sleep through it anyway, you've been sleeping for so long. Your soft words pull me back.
"Where are you going?" "Where do you want me?"
The sheets swallow me in again. Sweat, tears, sleep and sex fill my cup of tea once more. I almost thought I wanted to get away. Teach me again how to do this. You seem to be the expert. You owe it to me, I wore the heels for you, you know.
FIN. j'te aime daniel.
by the way, every intelligent american should get there hands on this CD.
My 3 inch heels bore a hole into the carpet. As we lay on the bed, I threw them haphazardly, like you did my heart. Entwined in cheap rough sheets that hardly conceal those not-so-hidden spots of imperfection. You know which ones I'm talking about. The ones you worked so hard to melt off but gave up. You seem to think there's too much of you, but there still isn't enough of you to go around.
Bitter sweet memories dipped in a sour apple martini. You asked for it dry, straight and on the rocks. Then you drowned in it.
You whispered into my skin but I forget what you said. Sex soothes. Sex heals. Sex makes you forget. I forgot my coat at the bar. You know, the one with my heart on its sleeve.
We lay tangled in 150 count cotton sheets of the worst caliber. We wallow in my 150 count lovesick memories. Did you lose the ones of Italian silk? The ones that heal our wounds, welts and whimpers. The ones that inspire us again, to love softly, sweetly, smoothly.
I pick up my heels, my heart, my slip. I'm slipping anyway. My rough fingers smooth over the small of your neck. You sleep through it anyway, you've been sleeping for so long. Your soft words pull me back.
"Where are you going?" "Where do you want me?"
The sheets swallow me in again. Sweat, tears, sleep and sex fill my cup of tea once more. I almost thought I wanted to get away. Teach me again how to do this. You seem to be the expert. You owe it to me, I wore the heels for you, you know.
FIN. j'te aime daniel.
by the way, every intelligent american should get there hands on this CD.