you've made me up to be your fancy,
and i oblige like freud's wet dream.
personifying youth in bright colored sweaters
and deteriorating flesh with self-infliction
and half-smoked cigarettes.

he told me we would last forever,
he came on my face and i wiped it away.
tissues held the cleanliness you took from me.

you made me feel dirty
and i kind of liked it then,
but i want to wash you off of me so badly that it stings.

you said we'd last forever
but the dying flame burnt out,
and when i saw you rolling over
i knew that i had seen our end.
and maybe it was symbolic
when you poured out your good champagne,
you said that you felt classy
when you drank with me.

remember all those broken nights
i couldn't get my bra off
and you'd get frustrated with me and
i'd have to keep it on.
i'll never buy another piece of lingerie
because it wasn't worth the money
and you weren't worth the time.

and if i asked you to be honest
would you look down at the ground
or would you avoid the answer
only to blame it all on me?

so kiss me twice and make it good
because i'll never let you touch me again,
you wouldn't want to cover up my face
with saline-ridden lies.

your eyes look like the ends of means
apocolyptic reasurrance
that we never need the world to end
to be at our lowest lows.

03/07/2005

Posted on 03/07/2005
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer