She’s exhausted from spilling ink She’s uncertain with her fingertips She’s wobbly and shaking on the inside She’s powerless from the past She’s flimsy as a thin piece of paper Sing me a song for wide hope Sing me a song for stretched out faith
She’s frail within her bones She’s isolated from the rattle She’s licking her wounds quietly She’s aching for companionship She’s comfortless and abandoned Sing me a song for freedom Sing me a song without chains
She’s tangled up in desolation She’s withdrawn and torn down She’s a tragedy without a witness She’s reclusive and friendless She’s a sky without any clouds Sing me a song for change Sing me a song for healing
She disguises herself with prescriptions and 1970 cliches. More often she sleeps in black leaves and clenches to the whispers of the blizzard. She prays to the secondhand lions and searches for forgotten riddles. She laughs at horror films and weeps at the comedy classics. She’s never used the word forgiven.
She wrestles with the fears in the morning and drowns in the insomnia at night. She speaks in a language without discretion. She plays with her skeletons in the closet. She ignores the left side of her imagination. She dances to jazz and dips her fingers into white pages to write enigmatic poetry.
She expresses affection with amber kisses and her fingertips. She said goodbye to her fireflies. She built walls with quicksand and tears. She stares at her right side of her imagination. She pleads with the stone truth. She’s witnessed more endings than beginnings.
She circles her anger like a hawk. She’s deprived of human decency. She loves with a small percent of her tattered heart. The rest is locked in a music box surrounded by caution tape. She sings to her frustrations to soothe the madness. She’s in love with only parts of her identity.
Love was just an insignificant occupant making me gag Love was just a bad joke I heard in another language I couldn’t comprehend Love was just a citizen that held me down and raped my soul with a jagged knife Love was just a stench I couldn’t wash out Love was just a word created by Hallmark Love was just four letters thrown together to serve a ridiculous purpose Love was just a shadow so I can feel myself Love was just a bruise on my shin to prove I exist Love was just a song written by a billion dollar jester Love was just a death wish waiting in the wings Love was just a plant I didn’t water Love was just a black eye with covered up lies Love was just a watercolor I can’t see Love was just mascara running down my face Love was just a cloud of obscurity Love was just a gram and a kilo of voids Love was just a room of emptiness Love was just a shattered mirror I look at every day Love was just a pile of poems that made sense one day Love was a just a pile of poems that I threw away the next day Love was just an adolescent that claimed to know it all Love was just an adult with an addiction that didn’t know a damn thing Love was just a bomb that exploded on planes, in buildings, and in schools Love was just a clan, cult, gang, a war of losses Love was just a book that millions don’t read Love was just a doctrine of stolen beliefs Love was just a pile of divorce papers Love was just a trigger pulled by one finger as the other four were staring at him Love was just an overused word Love was just ten minutes of causal sex Love was just an irrational scream Love was just the sun not seeing the moon Love was just a down payment for an item I haven’t touched Love was just a puzzle piece that doesn’t seem to fit anywhere
Under her breath she uttered “Life is as beautiful as a forehead kiss” Joy dances like a ballerina on her spellbinding tongue She squeezed tea parties with her doll Delilah with her artistry Quietly adoring her childhood books on the shelf from the tallest to the shortest She painted love with the ocean with her steady hand on her prized canvas Gazing at her innocent imagination Memorized the pattern and pastel colors of her quilt In a whisper she mumbled “Beauty is inside, not in the eye of the beholder” Climbing inside her mellow perception She glided across the beige carpet with an ornament of a smile A sphere filled with crayons, lite bright, easy bake oven, and ballroom dresses Cherishing the extraordinary recollection, Embracing the collage of photographs in her heart Drops fall to the floor as she glances at a hollow room on Wildfire Lane
She slips on theological rhetoric She hides behind the voodoo stuck to her silent tongue Wearing her vixen like dress She acquired accolades and accommodations from the saliva of the burnt orange wolf She spoke the language of love in riddles and teenage rhymes Wearing her Madusa like pearls She mishandled truth and washed down a liter of half bitten lies She threw away fortunes and laughed at others misfortunes Wearing her witchcraft perfume She roared liked the bitch she was and ignored the crowd who carried her on a Persian rug Wearing her battle ax over her shoulder
Instantly my judgements were casted. I sat at a table for three. I sat between a pessimistic dreamer and a carefree non stop smoker. I digested painted ideologies and exhaled nostalgia from my vibrating lungs. I scoffed at the handwritten kindhearted gestures. It was as if I had read them on a greeting card as a child. I tried to be engaging but was caught off guard by the long winded interrogation. Sidewinding questions, sarcastic remarks and complex theories were thrown at me like punches. I took a beating like a boxer.
Inside my head all I could hear was the regurgitating water downed clouds of systems. The formulas, schemes, and strategies plotted by short sighted leaders of this self centered generation.
I nodded my head as the clarity dispersed. I was not treated like an equal. I sat between arrogance and a rattling jaw. I barely touched my grilled California chicken. I only took a few sips of joy. I was tired of the pointing fingers and criticism of my status. I was ridiculed by plastic snakes with their golden ideals in a frame.
Inside my mind all I could do was to assess the situation. I could sense I was a pawn in their chess game. I couldn’t shake off the smirk. I coughed up their sour and misplaced words.
I sneered at their ancient glossy wisdom. I could feel the itchy tickle in my throat. I hacked up a two hour disgusting stomach aching conversation after walking away from the table.