Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2018
Our nights of lying on the broken pavement and spilling ourselves into the cracks are over
But honestly, it may be better this way
Because at least now I'm not dreaming up ways of how to fill in the spaces between the concrete and the grass
And you're not scratching up your elbows on the pebbles and the glass
I know you've cut your hands a few times, but now I'm not stuck cleaning up the mess
Don't think I haven't noticed your cologne pressed into her dress
I've seen her love letters in your pillow case and her silhouette
Gliding awestruck on your curtains
I wish I was as beautiful as every word her mouth has ever spoken
I've seen more of her lipstick on her teeth than I've seen on your neck
I bet she shows more love to glass bottles than she ever could to you, except
At least the alcohol can give her some kind of bliss
The smell of wine on her breath is the venom in her kiss
You think she knows love, my dear, she's simply brushing the tip
of it

Because with me, you were more than happy to get your feet wet, but I think it would have drowned you to dive in
I knew you were never strong enough to swim

I was a language
You never bothered to learn how to read
And I was a dance without a song
And you couldn't follow me

But we are just so different, her and I
She dances on the moon and she shakes hands with the stars
Shes a bustle in the city and the mystique in passing cars
And love,
I could never compete with that kind of art

I guess it's true
That one mans trash is another mans treasure
And you are the soil of the earth that endured my violent weather
You are the ground that holds me, but the wind that severs
And I would ask for it to be different, but I could never question Mother Nature
But I will always question why I am
The way I am

I know you'd rather feel her nail marks in your back than me drawing down your chest
You'd rather hear her drunken laughter than the whispers on my breath
I hope you'll realize there more lipstick on her mirror than there is on your neck
And I can't help you then
I won't wait forever
I'll let you handle the rest

You'll go on living
I'll go on breathing
But if you ask me, dear
Those aren't quite the same thing
Natalie
Written by
Natalie  F
(F)   
316
     Marlene and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems