You know what they want right? Just another young girl in a dress too tight Thin as a rail, with long flowing hair Smile on her face, like she has not a care Shoes she can't walk in, no man would try Face so frozen by Botox, she can't even cry And if she sticks to her part, she might do just fine If she's willing to *****, she can actually dine They'll chew up her soul and spit out the rest Wouldn't you know, they took the part she liked best But that's okay, anything to be a star Anything that is, except being who you are
This poem starts with A The name of it is A I thought of trying B But that's second place you see And never mind C D E F or G H had a decent ring to it I seemed self-indulged a bit J well I thought someone might think this was a joke K...this letter never had much hope L reminds me too much of loss And M reminds me of my boss N sounded negative, and so unlike me O screams optimism, which is for idiots you see I've had two boyfriends named Paul, so P was surely out Q's always been useless and R never had a viable route S is for ****, like most of what I write T reminds me of a cross, which seems so freaking trite U stands for useless, which this poem certainly is And V stands for violence, I heard somewhere it's his There's plenty of Why's so W was my second choice And X I realize never found its true voice Y stands for you, which is never why I write And Z seemed to sound good, but only at night So that brings me back to the letter A, that was a lot of fun No seriously I enjoyed that...thank you everyone ( all two of you)
As my heart aches Falls apart and breaks I feel at peace My emotions cease I exist in solitary Forever wary Of things to haunt me As I nestle into to a fir tree I felt broken I felt stolen By the girl who Whisked my heart askew As I stare into my despair I tell you beware Of the heartbroken world That is worse than the underworld Endless darkness Endless starkness Nothing to feel Nothing to conceal That nothing is worse Than the broken heart curse
I swore I would never be put back together by someone else again.
But when you’ve incurred hundreds of stitches trying to reconnect your own jagged pieces, you tell yourself that it’s better this way. Better to allow someone else to be your adhesive than to risk shattering completely.
But then she leaves.
Her duct tape grip is ripped from my skin and I am broken again.
I will have to learn how to put myself back together one day. And so, I reach down and pick up the first piece of glass.
As a young man I bought a bottle of aged bourbon leaving it as a reminder that celebration was near, but it became my biggest failure and my expectations flushed down like brown bloodied bile.
I washed away nights of sin with gin and begged mercy between breaths but even then I had known I'd chosen less as I dabbed my hands with lemon soap I wrote a goodbye note 'Cheers to the bottles I never broke open--'