Tag Archives: break-up

The Girl That Could Dance

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Outstretched legs that could reach the sky,
And nails long enough to lose an eye.
Curves small and soft, but defined and outlined,
Face tight, flawless, and often kind.
Pointed toes that swept deftly, precise,
And affection that came at a price,
Back tickled with golden hair,
A body most beautiful bare.
Elegant movements, jeté, plié,
Childish as very cliché.
Parents who raised their child right,
With the grace of a mythic sprite.

Shame everyone else had loved her too.

It Had to be Said

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It had to be said,
No more lies, or stories,
No more running away.
It just had to be said.
Or it never would,
The explosion would have killed,
Crucified, murdered, burned,
The last aspects of ourselves.

It had to be said,
No more pretending,
No more faking everything,
It had to be said.
Or we'd never know.
If we'd have been free,
To fell, to love, to cherish,
Anything ever again.

It had to be said,
No more secrets,
No more twisting the truth,
It had to be said.
Or I would have been dragged.
Pulled away from me,
The remnants left behind,
contorted and burned.

It had to be said,
No more sleepless nights,
No more pointless arguments,
It had to be said.
Or I will be the guilty party.
I will be the one who lied,
I'd have been the one who hurt,
Who burned everything in your eyes.

It had to be said,
No more silence, or quiet,
No more deceit.
It. Had. To. Be. Said.
Or I'd be someone I can't be.
I'd want what I can't have,
I'd love what isn't mine,
But not what is.

It had to be said,
No more tears, They'll dry,
No more hating, hurting.
It had to be said.

One More Bottle of Wine

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Let's get a bottle of wine and talk about it over dinner,
It's going to be a hard pill to swallow.
I'll have to stick to my guns.

In fact, let's get two bottles of wine, one each,
You will probably hate me for what I'll say.
I've got to, for me, for once, be truthful.

Screw it, let's get a third bottle of wine.
This will be too hard to say without a drink.
I can do this, but I don't know if you can.

Sod it, three bottles of wine, but no dinner,
I don't want to cook.
The truth already fills my mouth,
Already churns my stomach.
Everything is going to change beyond belief.

Right, okay, three bottles of wine,
And we'll talk over the phone.
I can't sit and watch the truth sodomise your heart.
I have to say it out loud though.

Never mind. No Wine. No Dinner. No Phone call.
Just talking, painful, pitiful talking.
About how I can't do this,
It's time to walk away.
Time to leave.