Lets make tracks for our happy endings,
Stopping to admire the back roads while
Slipping through the cracks, in old clothes.
There’s a new song and I might be wrong,
But I think I loved you when it ended.
When I was younger,
I would think about what it would be like to be a muse.
A myth of a women who inspired
music, poetry, and other written word.
I would have pages describing my body
through a lover’s eyes.
Honest prose scrambled together dedicated to only me.
Stanzas singing of how my breasts were subtle and my hips were a force to be reckoned with.
Singing of ways my smile could light up cities while my laugh moved turbines.
Now at 22,
tightly hidden away in a young mans apartment are intimate details of a love not physically expressed.
Scribbles of my body in dark charcoal.
A relationship weighed down in type writer ink.
Underwood letter impressions branded onto my skin instead of little whispers.
Lines describing everything he would
have done, but nothing he ever did.
He was why they say actions speak louder than words.
I am why they say be careful what you wish for.
I’d meet you on unmade sheets
in a hotel bed with a set of keys
and an empty tank of gasoline,
a hallmark card, a movie scene.
I’d meet you in an airport lounge
with a carryon in a tiny town,
plane engines as background sound;
pick me up and pin me down,
pick me up and pin me down.
girls who run with the wolves
aren’t here for boys to love
the moon sings every night
pulls the ocean’s tides to shore
your heart belongs to every star
screams dance upon your lips
a princess should be built of
stars and suns and forevers
your mother told you fairytales
but she didn’t tell you this:
when the sun sets and the wolves run
you will find that sometimes
the princess and the witch are one
and red riding hood will eat the wolf
there is fire in your blood
a forest building in your veins
don’t try to loose the moonlight
you were meant for this
between dawn and dusk
you are made of miracles
and you can run all you want
but in the light of the moon
the wolves will always call you back
It’s a quiet night in the dream world.
Does the ache of being wrong sting like silence on your tongue,
And do your eyes deceive your addled idle brain?
I taste like broken flower pots feel on the tender soles of your feet.
After a long-ass day, you still crave me like a drink, and that’s okay.
Pour a tall one, bartender, and watch yourself fade away.
You’re the sucker-punch that leaves a smart red mark across my cheek,
So I become the disguise and hope to God you’ll recognize me.
Under all this lipstick, it isn’t fair, so I expect you’ll be late.
You’re walking in and gazing right at me with the blankest stare,
And I hate to think you’d walk on by, but when I fear the worst—
It usually means I have a damn good reason.
There are twenty-four different ways I think of you.
In the always sense, you’re the one that got away.
We’re poison and wine, you’re a beautiful mess,
And in this sea of love, I will follow you into the dark.
We’re just friends, and it’s just a feeling, at 1000 miles per hour,
If I ain’t got you, the one thing, the only exception,
You’re free to call me complicated, though together
I believe our undisclosed desires make us vulnerable.
It’s this thunder that has me space bound, love of my life.
You are my heartbeat, and also my second chance.
You are an animal, a gentle hallelujah, and I miss missing you.