She
collects broken hearts
Like
seashells and autographs
Stuffs
them in drawers filled with
Knickknacks
and photographs
Tucked
next to letters from lovers
Tied
up in bright
Ribbons
that trail along
Never
quite giving them up
A
thread carries on
Till
the next one comes in
(Barely
pausing for breath
Between
kisses)
She
never gives in
To
the death of one
Leaving
them strewn
All
around her parameters
Mixing
them in with her
Present
day paramours
Filling
her life to the brim
With
these amateurs
Keeping
forever her part
Of
the life of them
Hidden
from sight
Yet
still anchored
Inside
of her
Fitful,
in fevered daze,
They
toil on
In
spite of her
Wearing
away all resistance
The
sight of her
Diligent
efforts at keeping
Escape
at bay
(Let's
them reveal her true nature)
Leaving
her battle-torn
Weary
from keeping them
Prisoner,
she's wearing thin
Still
she refuses them
Never
will let them go
Though
they wreck havoc
In
her empty shell of a soul
She's
a winner in her own
Perverted
sick mind
Of a
lovely game
Holding
on to these
Lost
pieces of fame
That
once beat
For
her only
Now
lost in time
They
relentlessly turn in graves
She
now makes her home in this hell
(Her
collection of old broken hearts)
Flowtrvlr
©2003/2010
No comments:
Post a Comment