Tag: writers

Nothing beautiful ever lasts

(venom like frostbite on a Sunday morning)

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My gal pal and I were feeling the hot July mist as we dipped our carefully painted toes in the pool
Swaying our arms to make waves like hurricanes
Flowers blossomed
My best friend
She jokingly said that I’m holding out on love
Not letting anybody too close
Painful reminders of past ghosts
Motorcycles, some of those
I said I’m living like I’m practically comatose
I wake up, open the shades, want to close them back again and fall into a slumber so deep my manager starts calling since I didn’t show up for work
It’s just too much work
And I’m impatient
Stagnant in some ways
Although I am crisp, I say that in a daze
The sky turns ablaze
Hot fire surrounds us

She’s crying and her mascara drips down her rose cheeks
I don’t know what I did
But it’s always me doing something
I remind people of their painful pasts
I refresh their memory that nothing beautiful ever lasts
I put one in mind of the fact that every little time you think something’s good, something’s right
It never is
Your worries become his
And that’s hard to dismiss

I’m not evil
I think I’m not
But the last guy said he hopes my body will rot
I thought it was kind of funny, which sent him in shock
I told him again and again that I’m not quite his flavor
The poor boy, I was doing him a favor!
The January wind came to whisk me away
He locked the door, practically begged me to stay
But it wasn’t hard to walk away (search for new prey)
I’m like a ship that’s too in love with the waves
Goes the wrong way for days
Doesn’t realize there’s a dock waiting, that you don’t have to escape
My vision turns gold and then grey
Nothing beautiful stays
So I celebrate the decay
Am I better off that way?

Morning dew is my favourite
When roses blossom, I’m in heaven
I remember being young, timid, and seven
Pushing my fingers directly into thorns
Gave me a rush that went straight to my bones
I was so little! A young mind so awake
Until I started bleeding and I’d start to shake
Some people are poison, like the tinctures I make
I’m fake I’m fake I’m fake

For God’s sake (my sake and yours) 
Pass me a cider
White roses when you greet me
Try to make me smile
Soon we’ll be dead and no longer will you see me

So I celebrate the decay
Am I better off that way?

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