i'm sorry.i am sorry if i am not what you expected.i'm sorry. by thefireflyliberation
i am sorry if i am not slender or cunning or sticking to the schedule or falling into the precision of appointments and the rules of poetry. i am sorry if i am wringing my fingers dry and running out of paper and bleeding ink through my eyelids. i am sorry if i am butchering words and stitching their bleeding pieces into something i can lie and call beautiful. i am sorry that i cant stick to your grammar, your syntax, your expectations, your rules. i am sorry, i tried.
i cant help that i am running barefoot through the grocery store because i forgot my shoes or that i am driving through the fast food drive-through without buying a thing because it at least feels like im driving somewhere. i cant help that i am forgetting to bring you home your medication and sleeping with my back against the grass and tying your requests together to knit a scarf to choke myself with. i cant help it.
i wish i was different. i wish i
look, she's crying over him.five years ago--look, she's crying over him. by thefireflyliberation
we were all elbows and sheltered self-esteems. we werent noticing each other except for bumping knees and walking into each other when walking around corners. we were nameless faces in the middle of the dance floor and hesitant hands touching. i was teaching you how to move gawky feet and a stiff spine, you were hitched-laughter fogging over my ear. we were wide eyes and gangly legs and fast music. we were bubble-gum-breath and coca-cola-fingers, breaking apart like nervous colts at the end of the song.
and all the parents said: look, how sweet, shes his first dance.
two years ago--
we were all chewed-on-lips and wrung-together fingers. we were orbiting alone until we crashed blindly together. we were reintroducing with shaking hands and getting swung onto the dance floor with free-falling-breath. you were taller, faster, taking my old moves and spicing them with your own. you were flipping me over your arm and i was hovering my mo
can't promise what you want.i think we can make this work.can't promise what you want. by thefireflyliberation
i think we can too.
but you have to promise me something.
promise me youll never leave the hand soap empty. promise me that when you see the faucet accidently leaking on the counter, youll take a towel and mop it up instead of just shrugging and walking away. promise me you wont leave your jeans rumpled in the hall because they didnt make it all the way into the room.
i cant lie, i cant promise that. but i will promise to never leave your hands empty. i will promise that when your bad day has leaked all over your cheeks, ill take my lips and wipe it away. and i promise that ill never leave your feelings rumpled outside a locked bedroom door.
i can compromise with that.
and can you promise me something?
ill certainly try.
promise me you wont drag me into some
just trying to enjoy art and make my way in life, i suppose. feel free to look through my gallery! ^_^ but please, no creepy/rude comments! respect me, my art, and my commissioners.|
"Provide one with the right medium, and they will create for you a masterpiece of untold glory"