Author Information
China white
Who would know?
My last words to a dying thought of young love
She learned all her advice from movies and kept her addictions in lockboxes
I became a way to find a fix
I made assumptions as fast as a needle can make the skin pop
Burgundy was her favorite word, brown was mine
Color had no value and wine was bought cheap from corner stores
I found her lipstick stains in friends ashtrays
Jealousy has never been my style, I could see the way she moved she begged for a reaction
Checkmate came easy this time, knight kills king and queen sells sympathy
Wearing wayfarers became an escape from the strobe light structure of dramatic affairs
She turned into a bedbug in my mind, I watched her crawl out from corners and scatter at the first sign of illumination
I was waiting at a coffee shop for my true love to arrive in a small tin foil bag, while she served drinks at an Italian bar
How else do you get your kicks on a Saturday in Mid-July?
I like this particular poem
I like this particular poem of yours.
Starward
I very much like ur style its
I very much like ur style its got that sense of pervading irony and tensions between the juxtapositions nicely done, very dope! HugSS
Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS
"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."
Heroin Epidemic
This poem is topical. Tea bags and tin foil ~allets~