Thursday, June 02, 2011


I've tried others, but yours fits best. And yours looks best. And everybody says it's beautiful Even though they don't know what it means.

I've purchased replacements, but yours is time worn, And has a more subtle shine. And good eyes can't help but notice--And tell me what I've always, always known.

That I'm lost and lascivious, burdened and broken down, debt slapped and draped with the moth eaten blanket of screwing up everything, rat raced and in a rut, time bombed and ticking and stuck and still sticking it out.

Because I have a friend that I think of each time I look down at my hand.

Romance is such a waste.