So what?
I grew up in the 90's.
So sue me.
I'm in love.
& it's not
like the movies.
There is no music
when we touch.
There's no slow-jam
when we fuck.
There's not a camera
to catch every cuddle
or every subtle
innuendo.
But in the end, know
that I am
in love.
I put up walls around everything
I only write in ink
I've got a bowl full of cereal
And dishes in the sink
& you're an estranged constellation
Broken beyond weird repair
You're so sure you're in love
In the mirror/In underwear
There's a light through the window
There's no way you heard me
There's no good way to let go
There is no one listening
And I love to watch her do the most mundane things.
But, hey. It's the moon. And it's out too soon so let's retire to the bedroom. Let's build a cocoon and talk about everything gloom & doom. Because when we go out to the bar, we just stand in the corner. Make fun of kids drinking PBR, and make our way back to the car.
& we go home early
watch a porno movie
you say that you feel dirty
but only
you mean you're not clean
Just to be clear:
I was born inside a diorama
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment