coffee stains on my rug burns
i'm hurting from the silence
weren't you supposed to scoop me up and put back the pieces that fell to the Arbor Mist stained floorboards?
adulthood knocked on my door and reminded me that i was late for the morning bell
i reached over to press snooze on life's alarm, but it evaded my grasp each time
i was forced to stand up and face what was ahead of me...
accountability. responsibility.
heartbreak, body pain, fatigue
i don't even drink coffee, but here we sit.
on the other end of a lit cancer stick talking about how short life is
the irony literally burns on my lips.
i can't imagine that i was ever mad at my mom for making me take a nap
i yearn for such now.
in a world where our frisbees have turned into ash trays & plastic crayon boxes hold our cigarette wrappers
we pretend that we're OK and play make believe with our feelings
we get dressed up in lies that we tell ourselves to feel better
and playing house is more like broken faucets, no electricity, and empty Frigidaires
i think my prince charming just walked down the Yellow Brick Road with my rent money
how did i even end up on my knees
was I praying, meditating, or searching for the missing earring that i never wear anyway, because when do I even go out?
coffee stains on my rug burns and i just realized, that sometimes, sometimes, I crave this feeling.