"glueing" poems - Hello Poetry

When addiction runs deep, Like the blood in our veins, Its impossible to kick, Unlikely to abstain. For we are what we love, And we love what we are; It’s said that an apple, From its tree won't roll far. Her parents were junkies, Generations gone by, So deep in her blood, It’d be cruel to deny. I’ve found in resistance, I beat my head on a brick, So no longer at odds, I embrace life as her fix. “Honey, can you fix this?” She says, smiling at the sale. At the lamp I look closely, It stands tired and frail; It's brass tarnished dark, Its wire is frayed. In my head I say, “No," then, “Sure babe,” someone else said. Believing I’ve dodged one, I breathe a sigh of relief; We return to our Jeep, and Drive away down the street. Then I glance in the mirror, And what do I see, It’s that LAMP in my back seat, Staring smugly at me. *“This dresser will be cool, In robin's-egg-blue;”* Just describing the hue, I see her almost drool. *“Yeah, natural on top, It's frame painted, then glazed... You’re the best at glueing drawers!”* She adds icing with praise. *“Look, here’s a chair I found, with pretty calico; If you fix it's broken arm, You’ll be my hero! Cuz I am sure it will fetch, Ten times what I've paid.”* I’m a wage earner no longer, She pays me in accolades. That bowl with mustard yellow, Picture frames of wood & plaster; An old tin box, and this small broach, A barrel chest with leather straps. A jewelry box, (A lover’s locket found inside) Each purchase she makes, Adds satisfaction, and pride. Her addiction runs deep, She’s my bargain-maker; Not a corporate girl, But she’s a mover and shaker. Yes, she's my ****** And I am her fix; Together we’re a duo, "Can we peak in your attic?" In my chair as I write this, I feel something, turn and see; And there pinned to the cushion, Is a price tag poking me. Now I’m nervous as a cat, Wouldn’t want to fall asleep; For fear I could wake up, In the back of someone else's Jeep!

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Oct 12, 2013

Oct 12, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC

se-reimer

The ****** and Her Fix

When addiction runs deep, Like the blood in our veins, Its impossible to kick, Unlikely to abstain. For we are what we love, And we love what we are; It’s said that an apple, From its tree won't roll far. Her parents were junkies, Generations gone by, So deep in her blood, It’d be cruel to deny. I’ve found in resistance, I beat my head on a brick, So no longer at odds, I embrace life as her fix. “Honey, can you fix this?” She says, smiling at the sale. At the lamp I look closely, It stands tired and frail; It's brass tarnished dark, Its wire is frayed. In my head I say, “No," then, “Sure babe,” someone else said. Believing I’ve dodged one, I breathe a sigh of relief; We return to our Jeep, and Drive away down the street. Then I glance in the mirror, And what do I see, It’s that LAMP in my back seat, Staring smugly at me. *“This dresser will be cool, In robin's-egg-blue;”* Just describing the hue, I see her almost drool. *“Yeah, natural on top, It's frame painted, then glazed... You’re the best at glueing drawers!”* She adds icing with praise. *“Look, here’s a chair I found, with pretty calico; If you fix it's broken arm, You’ll be my hero! Cuz I am sure it will fetch, Ten times what I've paid.”* I’m a wage earner no longer, She pays me in accolades. That bowl with mustard yellow, Picture frames of wood & plaster; An old tin box, and this small broach, A barrel chest with leather straps. A jewelry box, (A lover’s locket found inside) Each purchase she makes, Adds satisfaction, and pride. Her addiction runs deep, She’s my bargain-maker; Not a corporate girl, But she’s a mover and shaker. Yes, she's my ****** And I am her fix; Together we’re a duo, "Can we peak in your attic?" In my chair as I write this, I feel something, turn and see; And there pinned to the cushion, Is a price tag poking me. Now I’m nervous as a cat, Wouldn’t want to fall asleep; For fear I could wake up, In the back of someone else's Jeep!