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rebecca-suzannePoems
The puppet strings were always pulled so tight. They restricted my movement and my breathing. Then you cut them off With no Warning. We dance in the car We hold hands We do not take instructions From cues prewritten In teenage romance novels. You don't listen To indie pop. You don't even like poetry. But you like me Even when you pretend Otherwise. The night you kissed me, You spent thirty minutes Talking about cars in the cold. I didn't understand a word, But I loved every minute. We aren't delicate China, We are a red sports car On our way to the Smithsonian. We aren't baby steps and blushing. We are red sharpie, Rewriting Rules For Happiness. We are ******** Pushing buttons until they jam. We are awful singers. We are louder than the radio. We are just a moment But it's a moment to look back on.
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May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 1:23 AM UTC
your cigarettes match your lighter
The puppet strings were always pulled so tight. They restricted my movement and my breathing. Then you cut them off With no Warning. We dance in the car We hold hands We do not take instructions From cues prewritten In teenage romance novels. You don't listen To indie pop. You don't even like poetry. But you like me Even when you pretend Otherwise. The night you kissed me, You spent thirty minutes Talking about cars in the cold. I didn't understand a word, But I loved every minute. We aren't delicate China, We are a red sports car On our way to the Smithsonian. We aren't baby steps and blushing. We are red sharpie, Rewriting Rules For Happiness. We are ******** Pushing buttons until they jam. We are awful singers. We are louder than the radio. We are just a moment But it's a moment to look back on.
rebecca-suzanne
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rebecca-suzanne
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 1:23 AM UTC
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