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Dimples
It’s a mad rush to the gift card line
no parking at car4 Laval
the kids want vanilla bean drinks
from Second Cup
and I want to avoid every single
person I know. This time death
dictates how sadness eliminates
joy to the world. I walk
into the lounge
and meet too many boys
asking me what I do.
I’m not easy to impress
with mediocrity,
I suppose ignorance is bliss
and the Greek phiolosophers
are so right,
but this whole scene
is oh so wrong.
It just appears to be fun
as my friends go for smokes
and I sit alone most
of the night
talking to myself
writing in my head
thinking of my comfortable bed.
Too pretty to be here
too old to care,
about what you do
or how you stare.
Purple lights and rain
ease the Cosmos and shots
numb all the fucking pain,
but you still slide into
my mind,
with your bad attitude and treasure finds.
You still reappear among the vines
in our make believe forest.
You can come in and out of my life
like ink in my pen.
I don’t want to hear
I’m beautiful
from strangers
I just want to
hear it
from you.
Yet I’m so drunk
I listen
and smile.
Cute dimples, he says.
Comments:
10
You got me hooked … this reads like the opening of a book, a damn good one. Well done.
Thank you so much!!
I’m a stranger, but can I still tell you you’re beautiful? Because you are and so is this. 😉 <3
That, Dear Poetess, is a commendation from an Empress. 😉
you’re too much! omg, lol. I’m just a regular girl 🙂 who is a bit wacky. haha
…it’s been my experience that there are no “regular girls”.
Ok ok….I’ll stop. 😉
❤
Of course it is better to hear “you’re beautiful from the one you love. Nice post.
I know you hadother posts today. It had been a crazy day. I will read them tomorrow. Have a good one.
U 2 xxxx
God this is so good Chrissy. Missing you xxx