Thursday, July 3, 2008

I Shouldn't Write When I'm Drunk

I'm torn
between an awkward hug and an uncomfortably close encounter.
I miss the days when things came much more easily,
(Did those ever really exist?)
when decisions were based on how much you pissed off your parents the night before,
and wether or not you thought you could get away with it again.

My brain rewound one year while my body keeps moving forward.

. . .

Goodbyes last forever.
Remember this?:

there are pearls of remembering and beads of sweat embroidered in my bedsheets.
i am hoping that along with my warmth, they invite you back.
and you know, even if i don't speak,
that you are welcome here.

and when flattery and promises wither and fade
i know there is no reason to be sad.
the sun will always rise,
and the seasons will always return,
as well as friends, lovers, and faith.

i will silence myself with a smile
and turn my back to the wind
that will inevitably come
someday.

1 comment:

tgrs said...

mysterious biatch