promises are never meant for keeping.
empty words flung around,
luring innocents into a sense
of familiar false security.
i promised i wouldn't,
but i did.
i promised i would,
but i didn't.
all still empty words
swirling down a dingy bathtub drain,
dirt collecting 'round the rim.

promises are never meant for keeping.
i feel the needleprick if my own shortcomings,
sharper than a surgeon's scalpel
carved my breast in two;
the autopsy recites the cause---
"overdose, heart failure, aneurism."
"cancer, blood loss, asphyxiation."
but i died log ago,
in the velvet arms of mother dear
as she murdered her
whispered bedtime melodies
that alighted my fondest memories;
when she told me life is hard
and magic can be sold.

promises are never meant for keeping;
they wither over time
like wilted flowers in the windowsill,
years if drought apparent
in their sad, shriveled cores.
i was promised much
and promised more in return,
but we're left all with only
aching temples
and half-empty beers.