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For a smokey apartment scene, press 1.
by Jolie JordanSomeone calls me during another of my "morning after's".
I'm asleep, so
you know what to do.
leave a message at the beep,
baby.
If they knew where to look, they could probably find me.
I'm always lost in the slur of words,
some smokey apartment scene
where everything reeks of plug-in airfresheners and sex,
with every girl looking the same as the last.
bones and bones and bones
facial piercings black hair blank faces.
I could sit here all night with my neck thrown back
laughing at this hapless attempt at happiness.
If I had somewhere better to go, I'd be there.
Still, I continuously fill my throat
with whatever light beer is offered to me that night.
my stomach fills and my head swirls.
If I could reinvent, or rearrange, or just replace.. I would.
but instead I'll just accept it,
because I know where I'll be again tonight.
so fill up my cup, baby, and leave a message at the beep.
I'll try and get back to you. 04/27/2007 Author's Note: (I'm not proud, but at least I'm honest.)
Posted on 04/27/2007
Copyright © 2024 Jolie Jordan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 04/29/07 at 06:17 PM This is too sad - so, how do I get me some of this 'night before' treatment? Whatever, I'd be proud if I could run to honesty, whether deeply stoned or without sin :) |
| Posted by Sarah Graves on 04/30/07 at 01:24 AM A very insightful and honest piece. You seem to look into sexuality and what goes on in one's mind about it, and the aftermath. I really like how you describe your scene in such a potent way, yet not trying to hide anything. Great read :) |
| Posted by Steven Kenworthy on 03/03/08 at 08:41 AM you can be proud of being honest. most poeple aren't. this poem is good for that reason alone. raw truth with some playful genius mixed in. works well for you. fun to read too. |
| Posted by Olivia Weinkein on 07/27/08 at 03:31 AM Been there, so. many. times. |
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