Todays poetry » She had a stained glass window for a heart - a shoebox for a chest cavity, and a kaleidoscope for a soul that would reflect its light back at me. Depending on the day, she shone different colors. She had a handful of favorites that she kept locked inside her cupboards. Shes got drawers in her stomach, yeah she knows how to swallow her pride, but it get compartmentalized in the crawlspaces, and builds up inside. She says shes fine, but she lies, so she keeps sunglasses on to try to hide her eyes. And at night, she stays out of the shadows - its one of the only times that her true color shines. She says, Youre talking about me like you know what I mean, but you know nothing about leading that kind of life. Baby doll, my heart is as black as my lungs are. I keep bitterness in these cabinets next to all my bad habits - you either find faith, or lose it - you either had it or have it - Well I have had it! So I wear my smile on the good days that I keep in these baskets, wear my grimace facing life without the opiate for the masses. You pop your god like these pills that I take to bear the circumstances - Whats the difference? I called out to your god, but he never listened. You call it praying, well Im just wishing that things couldve been different. She says her daddy didnt want her, so she squanders to be the mother/father figure for her daughter. A piece of clay recreating herself as a beautiful basin from the situation that she was placed in - build for retaining life - a feat manufactured without the proper water or the potter And her heart it cuts like a knife! Its priceless and its as hard as a diamond, but shes been selling it for nickels and everybodys been buying. So now theres cracks in the basin, the way theres cracks in the basement - the one that daughters daddy beat her in when shed dare to face him the way theres cracks in the cement that she can dig her high heels in while she waits for another customer to pour his water in.
Posted on: Fri, 05 Sep 2014 08:07:25 +0000