"never let it die"
never let what die, exactly?
the passion?
i love arranging words
but even i have to admit
that eventually the day will come
when i can't find a new way for the words to sit
and i can't know if that day will come
before the day my curséd hands-
the ones that feel like pianist's when floating across a keyboard
while the owner watches words dance on the page
-become gnarled with age
perpetually pained and praying for the end
my life's greatest joy in the beginning
once my best friend
soon becomes my wayward true love
gone on the wings of a dove
leaving me with nothing to do
but stare hard with tired eyes at a bingo card

or is it the wonder?
wonder is life's greatest blunder
because as long as knowledge knows what's best
wonder will wind up dying like the rest
surely it is no contest
when a child's tooth transfigures into a 50 cent piece
just like magic
except for the part where little timmy
one eye peeled open
sees dad sneaking away in the night
trying so hard not to make a sound
or the year sally slaved over cookies for santa
taking care to leave a carrot for rudolph
only to realize that for some strange reason
santa's signature bore striking resemblance
to mom's when the pen in her hand does a dance

is it the motivation?
motivation is sometimes hard
when people are telling me that this isn't my calling card
all their tight-lipped smiles of pity
whenever i'm asked, "what else do you want to do?"
to be perfectly honest, it feels kind of ******
it's a knife in my heart, a stab in my back
in my darkest hour i feel my resolve crack
and there goes the backbone we all know i lack

or maybe it means me
or bigger than me, the fragility of life
the very thing that causes so many strife
but i know it is merely a pipedream
eventually my poor eyes will lose their gleam
you might say,
"hey now holly
it's not so bad
you could live on through your words
come on, they're more than just a fad
wouldn't that be rad?
now, there's no need to be sad!"
i mean, sure, but it isn't me who's got longevity
it's those words i wrote just to get some levity
what's so special about me
compared to all those other dead white dudes?
tell me one thing about shakespeare the man
and then tell me about your favorite play he penned
then we'll measure which conversation's longer
and that's the answer
regarding whether me or my words are stronger

"never let it die"
now that one's a crapshoot
but trust me, i'll be ****** if i don't go down trying
"ms. mcfarlane, you're dying-"
-**** straight, kid, we're all dying
but listen here, sonny
i'll be a monkey's uncle if you think
i'm going before you do, just another fink
nah, i'm going down screaming and fighting
i don't really care if they drag me down or up
just pour a little more champagne in my cup
this whole life thing? it's mostly dumb luck

"never let it die"-
now that's impossible, but
water it, nurture it, let it grow
not having the ambition, though
that's your real foe
its temporary nature is the artistry
that fosters the artist in me
so sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride
because everything in life happens in due time

lady
pretty lady
happy lady
smiley lady
singing lady
funny lady
laughing lady
cute lady
fine lady
hat lady
hipster lady
hold me, lady

lay lady
lay with me on my big brass bed
stay with this lady a little while
let's not do anything today, lady
can we watch movies all day, lady?
i'll let you take my sixteen candles virginity
as long as you've saved your pretty in pink one for me

cheeky lady
sweet lady
warm lady
soft lady
kind lady
kiss me, lady?

blue lady
sassy lady
music lady
lovely lady
love me, lady?

death by cute boys
yup, you read me right
seeing such sweet smiles
finally did me in last night
my little old heart can't take it
i know they will steal my little old heart
and one day they will break it

death by cute boys
i won't be coy
they do give me immense joy
i don't purport to understand boys
but i know enough to know
all they do is destroy

death by cute boys
'the thing you love
will one day take you-'
that may be true, but
i can't help it if
their love makes me feel brand new

you might say,
"if you know your kryptonite
then avoid it
if you know you've got a weapon
then deploy it"
i tried so hard, honest i did
i abstained from affection
held off as long as i could
meditated on my faults
came to peace with my weakness
found there was nothing i could do
i can't not have them
they can't not hurt me
i am in agony constantly
but this is my fate, you see

death by cute boys, though
there are worse ways to go-
now i lay me down to sleep
they lay roses
by my feet, across my chilly chest
but one will know
it is lilacs i love the best
that one is why i let them
put my heart to the test

the waiting is the hardest part
i will die a thousand little deaths
deaths by cute boys
before one comes to give me life
it's the price that i pay
but trust me
i wouldn't have it any other way

always the bridesmaid, never the bride
you have no idea how many times i cried
asking, "why me? why not me?"

well, for starters
i always oversleep
my eating habits are on repeat
i've worn the same clothes, same filth
for three days this week
i don't make an effort because i'm not going out
but no one asks me out because i don't make an effort
i write love poems i never send
i creepily covet people i consider friends
while my heart is stuck on the same old trend

hearts
yours and mine
your heart
pure and prone to breaking bones
my heart
crippled and casually crashing cars
the destruction duo
probably foreshadowing if i'm honest

i never get any rest
purple hues rise to the surface
furthermore, my life lacks any zest
and to top it all off
no matter how hard i've tried
i know i'll probably never be satisfied
so yeah
maybe that is why

she's searching for those golden days
ones she never had
of putting flowers in her hair and dancing in the moonlight
turning up the radio too loud and wearing out her records
a beautiful feeling of love
that dangerous drug
coursing through her young veins

someone grabs her hand
and they sway to the waltz rhythm
she looks up into his eyes
hoping to forever remember their blueish brownish greenish color
she wishes that he would only shoot up with her perfume
honeysuckle and roses, so fragrant and sweet

one two three, one two three, one two three...
someone pass another drink, light another cigarette
as tomorrow may never come
so let's live for tonight

and so long she has been dreaming
of those golden days
that she never considered
golden days were right in front of her nose all along

little rich boys follow orders
attend prep school, learn a dead language
put on your suit and tie young man, tuck your shirt tails in
wash your hands, throw your opinions in the bin
little rich boys follow orders
they do what daddy says

then there was richard cory
eighteen years old and handsome as could be
the one who preferred his own company at socials
his time spent fending off vampiresses
and writing poetry on cocktail napkins

"father," he said, proud and puffing out his chest
"i wrote my own book of poetry, and i think it's the best
i know that the bank is waiting for me
but in my heart i'm a poet, oh can't you see?
i want to be a poet, father, oh please just let me be a poet."

little rich boys do not disobey orders
and from the time he could comprehend
richard cory knew that being a banker was at his road's end
but if richard cory couldn't write poetry
he knew his heart would never mend

father's fat face flooded deep crimson
"listen, boy: you are my only son
and you shall be a banker when the deed is done
just like your grandfather, me, and his father before
you have not lived unless your life is a bore
i will not have a dreamer for a son
head in the sky as the world passes him by
while my business is fated to slowly die
no, if a poet my son chooses to be
then no questions asked, i will put you in the army."

that could never be
fainted-hearted fair skinned richard cory
would not last a day in the army
surely he was doomed to receive a bullet in the head

into his lungs he took a shaky breath
paler than pale, his lips formed a false smile
with a nod, he returned to his room
his words, his poetry-
it was everything, they were everything
without it he was to be another rich boy
following father's orders and saying, "yes sir"
who would grow to be a rich old man with no hair
who would always wonder what he might have done there

one thing was for sure:
if richard cory wasn't able to write poetry
his heart would never mend
this was the end

shaking hands, tears in his eyes
when he was a little boy he said he would not tell lies
a metal barrel in his perfect mouth, so foreign and cold-
father, this is what you asked for-
fingers fumbled with the release-
oh lord, eighteen years young and soon to be dead-
it was no secret to the people living in the town
when richard cory put a bullet in his head

summertime is here and flowers bloom
but inside my ghostly heart there is only gloom
because you're in love with my dreams
when the doors are shut and the curtains are closed
yet late at night i still yearn for you across the bay
in this much too-large bed i lay
desperately wishing you were *****

wait, no-
that's not it
i just wish that my side was the one on which you'd sit
i want you to sleep in my bed
i want to put him out of your head
i want it to be my baby in your crib
i want your third finger to wear my ring
i want you to be able to give me your everything

do you know what i want more than that?
i want to erase him from existence
i want to rub out the last five years
like chalk from a chalkboard
and start anew with you
i want to pick up where we left off
with you waiting patiently for me
hanging on my every word
as though they were the sweetest sounds you've heard
like honeysuckle or roses or poppies
or daisies

but no
you loved me too
well guess what? i love you
no past tense
no "too"
i love you
everything i do
every breath i take
every time my hands shake
every smile i wear
oh, that's my cross to bear
the *****, the banter, the banquets, the bands
my darling dear, it's all for you

don't you see?
why can't you understand
the part of my plan
where five years just disappear
this house is too big for only me (lonely me)

i should be laying next to you
but all i have is this green light
i close my eyes but it's tattooed inside
i wish i could put that thing out of my sight
but when you're laying in his bed
at least i still have my green light
to give me solace at night

lovely lady, i'll follow your lead
i learned to do that in the war
no matter how far
you have my heart
just promise to hold it dear
and for the rest of my days
i know i will have no fear