Dec 2012
I'll give you my thoughts for a penny.
Only a penny, because they're certainly not worth a nickel, five cents for the five fingers I'll frequently run along my collarbones, imagining myself imagining the moment when you did the same, all that's left now is the ghost of your fingers, negative space.
Not worth a dime. A dime I'll use to buy a caramel that'll glue my teeth together and trap the words I know I'll regret later on.
The sweetness of my unsaid words will linger for hours.
Not worth a quarter, 25, enough for all my fingers and toes, and one more for the hand that seems to linger around my throat, incarcerating monologues I can't seem to make anyone understand.
Certainly not worth a dollar, a dollar I'd use to buy sour patch kids, partly because I know they're your favorite, (you can appreciate the way they'll sting your tongue after a while, and the oxymoron living in the sour sugar that coats them), and partly because I sure am sour, and after all, I'm only a kid.
Only a penny, because they're certainly not worth a nickel, five cents for the five fingers I'll frequently run along my collarbones, imagining myself imagining the moment when you did the same, all that's left now is the ghost of your fingers, negative space.
Not worth a dime. A dime I'll use to buy a caramel that'll glue my teeth together and trap the words I know I'll regret later on.
The sweetness of my unsaid words will linger for hours.
Not worth a quarter, 25, enough for all my fingers and toes, and one more for the hand that seems to linger around my throat, incarcerating monologues I can't seem to make anyone understand.
Certainly not worth a dollar, a dollar I'd use to buy sour patch kids, partly because I know they're your favorite, (you can appreciate the way they'll sting your tongue after a while, and the oxymoron living in the sour sugar that coats them), and partly because I sure am sour, and after all, I'm only a kid.
