3.9.09

Stupid Girl Shit

You are flowers in my mouth.

You are the smell of perfume on my undershirt,

crumpled soft in my hands.

I bury my face.

Every picture, I know, is everything to do with her and

it hurts

I can’t lie

Love is a stomach ache…a burned down house

where I live.

No comfortable spot on the couch.

You live in a raging forest

free

I watch you through a window,

cracked,

crying

3 comments:

jereme said...

the jereme likes this.

~otto~ said...

boing

(actually, I'm just saying that

i didn't even read your poem

i just know it's great)

layla angelic said...

i like this.