She's like ink on parchment paper Solid with faded edges She's got a lot of weight while being light Trying to make sense of the shape At the same time respecting it I respond in kind by being weightless, a feather quill To her I am a threaded needle, continuously progressing into a seam Starting from the beginning until the end Making a garment without any shape or form Responding in kind with a letter of my own A Ey! Hey. As cryptic as where we started It has potential to end If I continue our thread there could be a *** of gold that isn't a fool's There could be a painting made for my frame There is something about her skin that deserves solid lines That stretches out toward the strobe lights That makes its way toward the true light If paradise was meant for the wicked Then we are created to balance good and evil
We talked again tonight, Not talking - messaging, It's like people forget how to talk to one another nowadays. Rarely such a thing of picking up the phone and calling a friend or an interest We type, type, type, giving varying degrees of attention It makes it so easy to misinterpret how interested the other person is Every little thing is expected to have ten times more meaning than intended And people wonder why relationships in younger generations often don't work very well Modern relationships are pieced together like the modern Prometheus, with mixed intentions in all the right places but with conflicting commitment tearing it apart
Didn’t really know why I felt the way I did When I saw her it was like nothing made sense She coordinated chucks and black nail polish with Lacoste polos She belched and smoked but she hated profanity She was only in high school but she was wise beyond her years She was the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, but she was lonely Only thing that made sense was that I liked her Did she reciprocate the same feelings? I already knew the answer And I was content Yet In the back of my mind I knew I had a chance when I first made her laugh I smiled when she told me she was into the same bands as me I fistpumped when I heard she dumped her boyfriend But then I remembered Who I am and who she was and I stopped myself Because she was the wild child And I was the awkward guy We didn’t belong together, we weren’t right for each other I stopped calling her and slowly I left her life Next day I turned on the television and I saw a couple Holding hands Walking down their street Talking about how nice the weather is And I thought to myself Why can’t the weather be good in Seattle? I called Elizabeth.