to all of you who recognize themselves in my work:
i'm not a hack. i don't write to please you. there's this one rule here:
if you have had even the slightest influence on my life,
i. will. write. about. you.
deal with it.
happy reading!

петък, 21 септември 2012 г.

6 feet tall wonderful disaster
waiting for me to finally appear
and as I tried and tried to walk faster,
I ended up breathing out "I'm sorry, dear",
I used to be late every night,
but he never seemed to mind.
He just wanted to hold my hand,
he just wanted to hold me tight.
And I left him no choice from the beginning -
we knew it would be over soon.
September came around twinkling,
October whizzed on a wizard broom.

And it rained in my bedroom, and everything was wrong,
he wasn't there to hold me when I was there to fall,
and the sudden doses of happiness
that he poured upon my life,
well, they vanished into emptiness -
and the writer vanished into silence.

can you imagine me with no midnight walks,
no keeping you close and not letting you go,
no deep brown eyes, no wildfire hair,
that writer girl drenched in despair,
no compliments, no me ashamed,
no making people jealous holding hands,
kissing in the middle of the street,
our friends mocking you and me,
no whispering "How do I even...?" -
"The best thing ever - AFTER YOU" -
no me insisting I pay my own dues,

can you imagine me not being late,
no sudden love,
no books, no guitar, no poetry, no more
the stars lining up above
and your eyes shining just as bright...

I can't imagine you
somebody else goodnight.

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