Sunday, November 30, 2008

Sad Open-Mic Song

Fake sticky lashes
Fresh digital prints
wrinkled up bedsheets
still drunk with his scent
ashy grey tear-lines
streaking her cheeks
itchy blue headaches
and two tired feet

It's all of these things
and sad open-mic songs
that the poor girl's got left
'cause he's as good as gone

It's all of these things
and sad open-mic songs
that the poor girl's got left
'cause he's as good as gone

Chipping red polish
and black sin-stained panties
all that compromising
'cause he upped the ante
wedding magazines
all dog-eared in vain
what good is a bride
with no new last name
what good is a man
who will never change

what good are her poems
what good are her songs
what does it all matter
when he's as good as gone

what does it all matter
when he's as good as gone

Now she's in the bathroom
for more than an hour
Guess time in there crying
has extended her showers
and the same eyes he swore
he could gaze in forever
are a little less gleaming
and hopeful
and clever

What good is the "right thing"
when we opt to do wrong
what good is a man
when he's as good as gone

what good is a man when he's as good as gone?

Friday, November 28, 2008

Forecast

Was looking through some old documents on my PC, and found this gem from my freshman year.
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The morning announced itself with sheets of rain.
I was awakened by the sound of drops slapping against my window.
Touching my face I brought back fingers moist and warm
….and the water hadn’t come from the rain.

I had been crying even in my sleep.

That’s when the night’s headache came back to me.
I don’t think I’ve cried for so long or prayed so hard in some time.


It’s tough, this love thing. And even though he told me he just “didn’t have it in him” to give, I still yearned to love and be loved by him.
And it’s not because I am foolish, but because I am in love with him.
Even though now I am convinced there is no difference...

I can not remember
walking to the bus stop
or where I sat in class
or even what I ate for breakfast...

When I close my eyes all I remember is the heavens' threat of thunder, and taking an exam I probably bombed because I spent the entire time daring tears to spill from my eyes.



And the forecast says it promises to rain all week...

But I don't need no weatherman to tell me that.

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Good stuff. :]