I'm a cool cat
Who likes to ****
The smooth jazz
That dances off my pen
Compliments
The 'garette I smoke

The dance of pen to pad
The movement
The shake
Rumble
Makes my fingers snap
And my feet tap.

She looks at me
Eyes narrowed
Head tipped sideways
Lip curled
And snarls at me in a way
that manages to sound so condescending
that  If I was a fool
(a different one then I already am)
I could mistake it for concern
"I really don't like the person you're becoming"
I nod my head so fast it practically rolls off its base of my neck
so sarcastic
I smile so wide That my lips crack
and my teeth bulge from my mouth
so mean
and flip her off in the best way I know how
With words and a ******* to match
she doesn't even care anymore
And the worst thing is I don't.




"I really  don't like the person  you're becoming"



"me either"

An empty room answers me.

Why do I always fall in love
With the one who is taken
Or who hates me
Or who doesn't even know I exist?

Love is a puzzle, that I have yet to figure out.

"I just don't care anymore"
The words ring in my head
Like a scratched tape

She doesn't care
That she's hurting the ones she loves
Every time she touches the metal to her skin

I think I get through to her
But the next day,
All progress is lost

I don't know what hasn't been said
What details she's strategically left out
But I won't give up

I refuse to let her become like me
Pink scars across her skin
With no way to be completely put back together

I can't let her keep spiraling down
Getting closer and closer to rock bottom
Hitting down hard right next to me

I *know she can do it
She just has to want to get better
But what if when that time comes

*It's already too late?

I do not believe in love at first sight
for humans have the ability to wear a mask

However

I do believe in love at third sight (if that is something)
because that is how many times it takes to remove you mask

I fear one day I should have daughters,
Yet I already know their names:
Ruby, Jane, Dotty, Maggie, Charlotte.
Would it be a blessing or a curse
If they turned out like me?
My mom told me when I was young
“it ain’t easy being a woman, I’m sorry.”
Sure as **** that was true.
I swear I never took that woman for a fool.
I can’t help the way it plays in my head
The pain in a woman’s eyes
Her smile so alive
It tells every lie
Deep down she’s half dead.
As I walk this path myself
Just as generations before
I wonder if that’s why
Little girls have such pretty names
To have something to keep it together for.
I’m older now and I still dream of their faces
How they’ll do right by
Our family of strong women
Whose names they were given.
Don’t be sorry, Mamma dear,
You pass your burdens to me
So our family can survive another year.