My translator

Everyone struggles with the other side of the grass

is it green

is it the future

of the deep driven past

repeat, shuffle, play

life, songs

music every fucking day.

Off to another town

to play the role of how we go up

and fall hard down

onto the bed with you

in my high heels shoes

and nothing else.

You do not have to love me at all

as much as I use it

I don’t.

So many may say it better than me

so many may be prettier

or smarter

or uglier

or closer

and yet here we are

in the same room

no one else can see us

my eyes on yours

and yours on mine

who cares about the wallet

or the cars we drive

or the typing in my head.

Let go the pain

and let me keep on loving your insane

heart

I knew it from the start

to run

but you kept on pulling my hand

painting the road yellow

fanning my stress

massaging my lower back

digging deep inside me with your

magic

I still run fast

I need to

I’m made that way

like a statue coming alive

so cold

so bloody hot.

It’s merely rings on my fingers

gifts from the past

nights made of hot lust

wedding night drunks

it’s all or nothing

nothing or all

it’s my heart

my mind

my soul

that confide

to each other

my keyboard the translator.

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9 thoughts on “My translator

  1. I’d never seen it from this angle before Chrissy but you’re right – it’s a translator, an interface between mind and expression that somehow channels our most prosaic vocabulary into our best, most beautiful and deeply personal creations. Your work is proof positive of this.

    Liked by 1 person

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