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Array
(
[sid] => 102147
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => My Backyard Isn't Good Enough To Watch A Storm From.
[time] => 2005-07-27 13:55:10
[hometext] => Memories. Someone leaving for a week, coming back, and having their mind completely made up without letting you know.
[bodytext] => I’m really sorry that I messed this up. It must’ve been at your departure. We were sitting in my driveway and you were saying how much you would miss me. And then we kissed and your deceiving lips melted right through my honest mouth and me. Oh, but I was satisfied. And since I am stuck on being sincere with you…your blank, ugly, green eyes never did a thing for me. And I’m telling you, this isn’t the bitterness talking. It’s the airplanes that flew up over 3 miles high of the bright blue sky that fills the country…and the fact that you still could never find me. The 4th we stood in your backyard, and watched the leftover fire that came up from the sky. The trampoline was too wet to lie on from the hit and miss sprinklers that sent us running inside Long drives out to the pier where you pushed me on swing sets and we balanced our fears while walking a crossed concrete walls, just letting the cool mist bead onto our faces while sitting on wood benches feeling nothing but complacent. Back at your home it was storming outside and we would rate the lightning that came from the sky, then deciding to run through the neighborhood jumping in puddles and becoming soaked with their height. But then night fell upon us and the thunder boomed, yelling at you to take me back where I belonged. But it was nothing short of me being wrong, nothing more than our stupid theme songs. Maybe my hands weren’t warm enough; maybe all of the photographs we snapped just didn’t give us the right touch, and Maybe “just a little bit” turned out to be way too much So you left for a week and apparently ‘made up your mind’… that you hadn’t really missed me, and that the “feeling” we felt wasn’t as mutual as it used to be. But the burning hope inside of me, is saying that this will all eventually fit together like the puzzles pieces from a small child’s toy box, but the situation can’t help it and it starts to send me tears, and that’s ok because I like a good cry every once in a while. I swear this isn’t the bitterness talking, because we did get to share our one last slow dance…but it’s got to be the airplane that flew up over 3 miles high just to bring you back to me, and the fact that the bright blue sky isn’t as blissful as it ought to be. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 165 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Angela [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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