the small of your back and those arching eyebrows,
the crevices of your hands and the craters of your heart,
the pain in my chest, cancerous, chronic,
and the doctor warns me it isn't heart burn this time.

can't forget those broken words that flew from the rooftops,
crashing amongst the shatterd rubble and carcrashes below-
forfeiting lives, burying teardrops, scattering eyelashes,
shielding heart ache.

heartache.

isn't that funny? ironic, beautiful, coincidental in the least?
i can't exchange these bruises for flowers,
these scars for sparkling wine
and even if i could, i doubt even this would make beauty breathtaking

certainly not mine, anyway.

spin spin spin, little doll, 'round the people,
forget that i'm here, forget him, forget our hands and your heart
concentrate on those bleeding feet and that perfect twist
(i promise i won't forget this one)

05/05/2004

Posted on 05/06/2004
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