We Get Bored So We Get Married

I contributed twenty-six cents to that Dr. Pepper,

That is now splattered across the floor. 

That's okay.

Remember that I'm not into keeping score.

Little pink envelopes are scattered in the glove compartment,

Each one containing a clue,

They were just pieces of a puzzle that you couldn't figure out,

In hot pink everything is written that I wish you knew.

This town is so small,

If there is not a thing to do,

We go to each other. 

Let's just hope I don't end up a mother. 

Life's too short,

I've seen too many people this month get buried,

We get bored,

So let's get married. 

Macaroni couches, 

Blankets I have saved for you.

Everything is a chain reaction,

I'm not very good with fractions.

 

 There's pain in my throat,

So you decide to make me hot tea.

Sugar in a Halloween cat cup,

My love for you is not letting up.

 

Same Hurt in Every Heart

Carnage is scattered around the six walls,
Dare not call them ceilings.
Candy wrappers coat the halls,
Trying to hide all the brokenhearted feelings. 

It just can't be that late,
But this is my final hour.
My mind must be playing tricks on me,
How did I end up in the shower?

You can't understand what happens to me,
These thoughts that creep in I just can't believe.
I take those whispers and crinkle them,
The shadows tell me not to let them get wrinkled.

There are 101 places that you need to see before you die,
Don't ask me because I really don't know why..
It starts inside and works its way out,
Too bad the lights are dying.

Sometimes my world catches on fire,
But the smoke is ice cold.
Getting one last kiss from my grandpa,
That would be worth more than gold.

A Quarter 'Till I Drop Out

My shoes are wet,
I continue to tap my foot in a puddle falling from the sky,
I guess the weather men call it,
Rain.

I could tell you,
Where I am supposed to be,
But it would be easier to tell you,
Where I am going.

And that,
Is nowhere.

That is me,
Alone in this hall,
The rain knows I am sad.
It stays out of my way.

A hallway pass walks my way.
He does not say hello.
Running to the bathroom trying to save time;
He doesn't save enough to spend some with me.

I take out my hair,
And begin to braid.
It's a mess but,
It's not like my mom taught me anyways.

An old teacher walks past,
She takes one dissapointed look at me.
She thinks she knows; 
She thinks she knows how my story goes. 

Maybe she is right,
Maybe I should tell.
Maybe I should tell someone that letters look funky to me;
Whenever I try to read or spell. 

As I look at my watch,
I look for a cop out.
I smile and my mum doesn't know why she sheds a tear as I whisper,
"It's a quarter 'til I drop out."

My Soul Is Made Of Cheesecake

I know who I am,
Please don't find it strange,
I don't find it very hard to picture.
I know why I will die.

My
 Grandma
              Died
                      On
                            The
                                  One
                                         Year
                                                 Anniversary
                                                                  Of
                                                                       My
                                                                            Grandpa's
                                                                                            Death.

And I will die the same way.
I will die of a broken heart.

My personality is addictive.
I'm addicted to not being able to let someone go.
I hold on to this rope in a tug-of-war of wills.
But, I always lose as my soul shatters across the floor.

  My
       Soul
                Is
                   Made
                            Of
                                 Cheesecake.

We still have everything.
I must be mistaken.
I'm watching after three little children.
I just want a little bit of love.

  Weddings
                  Would
                             Be
                                 Prettier
                                            In
                                                Pink.

People come and go,
Talking of things I will never know.
I knew it right from the start,
I will die of a broken heart.

                                I
                                   Am
                                         Such
                                                A
                                                    Lonely
                                                              Lamb.

We are looking at the same moon,
But that doesn't change the fact that:
  I
    Can't
           See
                You.

I'm facing nightmares that you can not possibly begin to read.
Just give me a minute,
The macaroni is burning on the stove.
It's funny how that's how I stole your heart.

Give
        Me
              Some
                       Control
                                   Over
                                           Mine.

I know why I will die.
These feelings never seem to lie.
It's like a sick game of narcissistic darts,
 I will die of a broken heart.






  

Framing Me

Why is it,
That everything I've done,
I always look back,
And people say,
"Don't worry.
You're saved."

Why is it that,
Everything that I touch,
Always comes back out at me,
And it threatens to hurt me just as much.

I have a
Hidden
Talent.

Shh.
I know how to dance.

I am
Anonymous.
And in a dark place.

 Love is a
Wicked game
And
I
Don't
Want
To play.

Stop
Being
Anonymous,

Or

Continue
Framing
Me. 

Cards

The beat
of
a base
fuels the
fire

inside my
heart.

Open
up.

Did you
write
me
a

Valentine's
Day

card?

I
wrote
you .

Let
me
know
when
you are

finally
finished.

Let
it all
fall.

Break.
Find yourself

up against a
wall.

 Lights
dazzle
me
as the razor
does

too.


When your
thoughts

become less
about
him

and more about

you

that's when
you'll
know

a little
of
what

I've
been
through.

But
for now,

Thoughts
are
becoming

less about
me

and
more

about

you.

Map of Me

I have tattoos on my feet.
They are tiny, and raw.
They have little hearts on them.
They are love kisses from all the times I have danced.

I have tattoos on my calves.
They are wings.
They symbolize all the running I have done;
Running away from all my fears.

I have tattoos between my legs.
They are scars done by me.
And you.
But hey, let's not point fingers.

We can bullshit and call it a tattoo.

I have tattoos on my hips.
They are paw prints along my side.
They are for my father..
He always taught me to be wild and free.

I have tattoos on my wrists.
They are from my not-so-forgotten past.
No need to explain.
 I should have known that not all relationships last.

I have tattoos on my neck.
They are faded hickeys and bite marks from when my lovers got rough.
They are hidden pretty well I might add.
I only hope God doesn't see.

There are tattoos on my soul.
They spilled out from my eyes.
They complete the map of me.
Sometimes they stain on my face as tear drops.

My soul may seem broken but,
These tattoos make me whole.