I kinda sorta,
skipped,
right on,
a land mine,
last night,
and now,
my shoe laces,
aren’t tied,
and my heart,
well,
it’s shattered,
to pieces,
this time.

My feelings,
are hurt.
And I don’t,
know,
if that’s,
your fault,
or,
mine.

You carry,
the same carmex,
for years.
There’s a ring,
in your pocket,
that isn’t,
for me.
Is that,
considered sad,
or is it,
just the way,
it is.
Maybe it’s,
just a little,
bittersweet,
in how,
it’s ironic.
I stumble,
I fall,
right into,
your hands.
But that’s,
just the way,
I am.

Won’t you,
tell me?
I just,
would like,
to know,
what is making,
you so sad?
Was it,
your dad,
and the way he,
never seems to,
care?
Was it,
mom again?
And how she,
shakes her head,
in such,
disappointment,
that you can’t,
seem to,
take away?
What’s wrong?
I’m only asking,
to wipe your tears,
and maybe,
hug you tightly,
to make you feel,
less alone,
today.

Do you?
Now that,
is something,
I wonder.
It’s surely so,
that I know,
of it all,
truth be,
not told.
There are moments,
that it keeps,
me up,
unable to,
sleep.
I toss,
I turn,
I twirl,
and this tattered,
torn blanket,
gets more rips,
as I spin,
myself,
to dreams.

Butterflies,
have knives,
and they’re,
cutting up,
my insides.
Just like,
the words,
stuck in,
my throat,
it’s just another,
line I’ve used,
before.
I never promised,
to be perfect,
but my pants,
are singed,
and my shoes,
filled,
to the,
brim.
It’s a bit,
unhinged,
like the corners,
of a page,
in your favorite book,
it’s not broken,
but it can’t,
be fixed.
It’s something,
cheap,
borrowed,
used,
and the wrong shade,
of blue.