Things change. Things are different now.
They are not what they used to be
Between you and me
At best, I’m the lingering aftertaste of sour milk
At best, you’re something to scratch – an itch
Wish we could go back? Too late. I’m hitched
Wish we could go back. To that, at least.
No. I really don’t wish.
It’s a waste of time – time I have not to give
To I open my journal, let my pen shed tears
Because my eyes are stingy; no water with which to grieve
That’s why I don’t do closed doors – my life is out there
In here? It’s too cold and warm
Perfected the art. I already have.
Now I can’t wait for us to take it back to the start.
When we were strangers.
photo courtesy the recording evolution
Two peas in a pod
My heart and head were
Then one broke in pieces
And the other was shorn
No time to mourn!
No time for peace lost
Had to find the pieces
Under tons of shit and smelly ghetto pisses
One split in two like fingers in a peace sign
One shattered; many a piece left to find
Scoured left and right, low ridge and high
Nothing but vultures squawking nigh.
‘Vultures squawking nigh’?!
That’s because they’re high!
Full off pieces of my ____ they picked clean
Now that’s gone. No more peace in my pod.
Going through the motions,
Shocked awake – rude emotions
A kiss so great
Quantities measured – memories treasured
Trust fragile; completely fractured
From duct to ticker tape to surgery scars
Picking shards of what was once a heart;
She wanted to take me out for lunch, and she said so with a hand on the sleeve of my jacket.
I acted like the warmth from her fingers was too slight to make a difference to me and looked everywhere but at her mouth as she spoke. She came to the office at the behest of one of our latest clients – she was the company’s legal adviser.
Normally I wouldn’t be involved in such a meeting – signing official documents and what nots. But in light of several recent events…
I told her no. I didn’t – don’t fraternize with clients and seeing how they were new I’d rather not.
A smile appeared on her too-thin lips and she said she understood.
“I understand,” she said.
I still have a hell of a lot to learn about women.
Can she tell you how lonely she’s been?
Those nights of wishing you didn’t leave;
Days of pulling out her hair, destroying her weave,
Those same braids you paid for, but only after writing her ‘please’
Can she share how cold its been?
Explain how her pillow replaced you between her thighs,
How screams of freed passion have become deep and trapped sighs,
How something soft and cold at warm and strong now tries?
How she uses your messages to identify male lies?
Can she use make-up to explain a break-up?
How her tears play the role of facial cleanser,
How her lip gloss tastes sour without your kiss?
How you stripped away your loving foundation, left her nothing to build on,
And oh! How she smells, fear is now her roll-on?
I understand you, its not your fault too,
It was something that wasn’t like before and that scared you
You should have told her how you felt but sometimes words won’t do,
So you left, all torn inside cos you thought it was best
Meanwhile, you were nothing but a victim of fear
She might not want you back but at least talk to her,
Don’t allow fear keep you trapped, get it out of your mind,
Better make corrections now while there’s still time,
I know so much because the face you see in the mirror is mine.