~ sixthis isn’t one of Mother Goose’s fairytale rhymesso don’t expect a “happily ever after”at the end.
~ fivewith a band of pure goldand diamonds crystal clear, this rings shines witha fragile sincerity. Too bad I buried it in thebackyard the dayyou said “I Do.”
~ fourfour birds came callingthis morning; theywere looking for someone.I told them she didn’t live here anymore—she died a long time ago.
~ threethey say that french is the languageof love, but all I’m hearing isnoise
~ twomaking peaceis harder than sparking the flame;it requires you to admitthat at one point you were wrong
~ onepartridges and pearsin trees are a nicedelight, but theydon’t repair the bridgesthat you’ve alreadyburnt.
a spoonful of sugarfor too long nowi’ve written hopewithin the margins of my ribs, tiny hearts andgolden starsadorn the pagesthat make up"our story”(even though the only thingwritten there isa shaky handedthe end.)the ink that flowsthrough my veinsscribes falsepromises on myeyelids, tauntingmy dreams with the notionthat we’ll everbe somethingmore thanlate nightconversationsand day oldbread crumbs.a spoonful of sugar won’tmake this truthany easier to swallow;i’ve dug myselfa grave withinthis cloud of denialand I wouldmuch rather spend my daysdecaying in the shadows of my poorly built casketthan return to the monotonyof tomorrow. i could easily blame the alignment of the stars or karma’s incessant bitchinessbut that’d just by myinner child refusingto face the facts of life--I need to wake upand smell the