This It, Take It All

Take this. And this. All of this. 

And the other half too,

until I’m finally empty

and have no one to blame but myself. 

(But I’ll still point at you). 

 

The sun will leave me blind 

as a wake up call. I’ll race into work

in high heels and clock in before nine. 

The apartment’s maintenance man will knock twice

then leave. A patron will forget her car keys

at the counter, then curse next to her car. 

 

And still, you’ll keep all of it, when I’m over

every shred of me. 

◄ Ice Skating In New Orleans

The Vanilla Girl ►

Comments

No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message