The Lies I Used to Know
I miss them, the safe stories.
You couldn't fall
out of those happy endings
legs tucked under
The doors open to sunlight
& cornered gardens
brick paths, lilac & stinking privet
those transparent organdy kisses
I need a novel with no last pages.
Here was that truth
of rage, the burning sofa
the nights of smoke
My whiskeyed dad & Cinderella dancing
past dying. I was never sad.
posted by jarvenpa @ 11:50 AM
2 Comments
2 Comments:
sharply evocative, a little haunted, a little haunting.
High, girl!
Whether you obtain morality4mortality to wiseabove
and/or just glean tantalizing specimens for thy next best seller,
I realize my penname is quite morbid, yet,
you shall find in our blogs a lotta (subliminal) moxie
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the greatest of these is love -
jump into faith...
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Doesn’t matter if you don’t believe (what I write);
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Meet me Upstairs, girl, where the Son never goes down
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Do it. Do the deed, dude. Sign into the Big House.
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