Homemade spread on crumpets and toast
A thin slice of me, wherever you go..
Bed & Breakfast at the Chateau Marmont..
Where you'd write me letters in an ivory font..
Your old soul haunts through the strings of my guitar,
as I play the songs we'd once sing in the car...
Drugs, Loneliness, Deception & no through roads..
Isn't that just the way our lives were supposed to go?
I hear your music sometimes, on the radio..
a stairway to heaven is just as close...
Sorry that you only thought of me
as a string you played, yours sincerely....
About a romance between a musician and a waitress. When the musician becomes a household name he starts to see her as a groupie rather than his girlfriend.. as he dives into a life of substance abuse and rock star virtues..
Sometimes I lie
When people ask me those questions
Like “who inspires you the most”
Or “what is the most influential thing to have happened in your life”
Sometimes I talk about
Women in science
Or growing up adopted
Or being a struggling reader when I was in third grade
I never talk about my mom
I never talk about feeling like I had missing pieces
Not just in my heart but in my mind
Like someone pulled out the naughty things
The bad things
Leaving me with only leftovers.
When people ask me for my best story
Sometimes I talk about how
I faked a peanut allergy
And how a boy stabbed me with an epipen when I ate a peanut butter malt in front of him
Thinking he was saving my life.
I usually avoid the part
About me wishing that those drugs were lethal
That an epipen could end it all.
I find small talk to be so hard
Because there aren’t enough good bits inside me
To make it through a conversation.
If you see me
Can you just do that thing
Where we make eye contact and nod slightly
Smiling sometimes and not stopping.
I don’t have anything
Truthful left to say.
Open to constructive criticism.
I want to be a peanut
My life would be much simpler, and
My feelings would be much smaller, but
I would be a peanut
Caramel, Reese's Pieces
Outrageous You Are
I can't get enough of them, they are my perfect candy bar.
There will be times
when you eat
from a saucepan
banana and peanut butter
with a teaspoon
with a cup of milk
standing by the radiator
because the room isn’t warm enough
because you can’t sleep for thoughts
because you were too tired to leave
to grocery shop but now too hungry to sleep.
I got a cold when I was staying in Paris as a student and found it funny this particular moment. I'd only just arrived and hadn't properly settled into new city but also felt under the weather, but this was me trying to get by when I felt too dizzy for grocery shopping. Chopped banana and peanut butter in a saucepan. Bon appetite. :)
My throat closes
when I think of you now
I loved you once—
I wanted you every day—
and part of me loves you still
but it would **** me
to have you
isn't it funny
how something that was once good for us
can become the death of us
a design by God—
we wake up one day
and our bodies have evolved
to reject even one taste
that it would be a delicate tango
between life and death—
to ever have you
lights in our northern souls
we chew peanut butter sandwiches
and contemplate our existences
the future is sticky
and the past is honey-brown
that glues our teeth together
we swallow our words
and drown in the light