Friday, March 9, 2012

The Problem to Our Solution

I was waking in your apartment.
Your white walls wore morning sunbeams like garments
A girl can only hope for 
And a whore can only pray for, 
Hardly remembering the love you'd say we almost made; 
A ghost to show the mistake we almost made 
If we did in fact get laid. 

Do you think people realize 
Morning sun is needed to symbolize 
A blank canvas for us fools? 
To start anew and actualize new jewels? 
But maybe you think it's irrelevant 
And you don't care to cooperate 
Because you didn't skip a beat 
(even with all that sweet light at your feet) 
From where we had left off last night. 
The ghost hanging above us like a kite 
Except that I could feel it wasn't very light 
And I wanted to ignite it with spite.

And here we were, even though you swore 
You adored me enough to wait for 
Your version of a gentleman's perversion. 
You'd give me time before I burned with submersion. 
You had located this beat wickedly fast, 
Hardly asking me if I had found it outlast. 
And my limbs were like a pony just given birth to. 

I was trying not to fall through you. 
I'm sure that's what most girls do 
But I want to stand alone and not need you. 
And all though I like you, 
I'm not ready for this no-pants show. 
I want to be able to dance fast, too, you know?

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