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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 18:13:16 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 99139
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => And its only when...
[time] => 2005-06-23 21:24:13
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I’ve gotta remember this: the cloudy indigo eyes, California tan, that blonde hair that always hangs over his eyes, so we only get to see part of him at once. I gotta deal with the fact I got the box half opened, half hurt and half slandered, with his black and white idea of love, written in a poem by his bedside table, with my name as the title.He’s standing in the violent night, ruthless, with a bottle of something to his lips. It's Skyy to match the storm. I watch the street lights flicker from behind him. I don’t care if my make up bleeds, if I can’t see out of my glasses, if my hair gets flat. All I care about is stepping over the fine line between real courage and unnecessary bravery. This is like the end of the best goodbye movie, rain and two people tied between facing each other or walking the other way and waiting until the storm clears.Lightning flashes in my eyes, bright and unforgiving, screaming "make your ***** move or this is done for". I press the palm of my left hand, cold against his back.I hate when perfectly planned speeches go sour and I’m stuck with words that I don’t like the taste of on my tongue. But, the more I think about it, in the awkward “he said she said” scenes of the famous goodbye movie, there has to be something better to say than just “hey.” And he doesn’t wait to hear it. He takes me under his arm.
[comments] => 1
[counter] => 190
[topic] => 2
[informant] => LIving_In_My_Dream
[notes] =>
[ihome] => 0
[alanguage] => english
[acomm] => 0
[haspoll] => 0
[pollID] => 0
[score] => 0
[ratings] => 0
[editpoem] => 1
[associated] =>
[topicname] => LovePoetry
)
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