After we hung up the phone
and after I heard
the ghost in your voice
singing
(its song of wasted abandon
of histories
of your medicinal haze)
I saw a pile of
lavender
I had yanked up from
the man-made soil
in my landscaped yard-
another man-made object
Vicodin or Lavender
I want to feed them to the sea
(it's a song of reckless abandon
of hope
and of better days ahead)
But you always find another
orange bottle to ease your pain
And I always find another
field of man-made flowers
to take my mind off of
letting you go this way.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
After we hung up the phone
and after I heard
the ghost in your voice
singing
(its song of wasted abandon
of histories
of your medicinal haze)
I saw a pile of
lavender
I had yanked up from
the man-made soil
in my landscaped yard-
another man-made object
Vicodin or Lavender
I want to feed them to the sea
(it's a song of reckless abandon
of hope
and of better days ahead)
But you always find another
orange bottle to ease your pain
And I always find another
field of man-made flowers
to take my mind off of
letting you go this way.