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Loose.
by Jolie JordanMy mother has a grandchild,
My brother is a father now.
I am just barely 21 with no direction or plans and a fading bottled hair-color.
I fill my sheets with one night stands and misunderstood longevity.
we both fill our bellys up to the point where I think they might overflow
onto the carpet, an ode of sorts, or an epitaph, of that night's bar tab.
(depends how you look at it)
Of course I have regrets.
but my regrets can just as easily be chalked up to me mouthing the words
"I'm not that girl" (even if this is stretching the truth, even if.)
and if we're sticking to the verity of the subject,
every girl is that girl, no matter what she says.
My mom holds my brothers first child like she's holding her own,
I hold my half empty drink and smile at the guy sitting next to me. 02/26/2008 Author's Note: I'm actually not this slutty, sorry to kill the mood.
Posted on 02/26/2008
Copyright © 2025 Jolie Jordan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Olivia Weinkein on 02/26/08 at 11:06 PM Even so, this is great with itching bitter undertones. Love it. |
| Posted by Nanette Bellman on 02/27/08 at 03:01 AM Everything about this poem is excellent. I loved it from first to last word...this coming from a retired "that girl", i like to call a fastgirl. this is going on my favorites list. |
| Posted by Steven Kenworthy on 03/01/08 at 09:14 PM it's ok, i mean...$#%@ty is the new pure. this poem, i like because of its extremely honest approach at something that's not quite true. hard sometimes to paint a picture that is no where near existence. well done dreamer. |
| Posted by Steven Kenworthy on 11/26/08 at 03:52 AM i just read this again...best author's note ever. period. |
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