frosty_gurl02
03-13-2004, 07:03 PM
I will not jump to conclusions. The little chain has been pulled, and the hallway light turned on. I can stand infront of the mirror and touch myself, only myself. Always myself. I wear pink to look feminine, I wear black to look mysterious. I wear them both like a recipe. A whirling incantation for you to conjure up and taste.
For so long I have worn nothing underneath this skirt, except the occasional slip of your finger. (waiting for something magical to happen) as if folds of skin and moist hidden places meant anything to anybody.
And I have to sit here and listen to female voices with my legs crossed. Cordless phone glued to my ear. Look no hands. Her voice entwining itself through every negative bone in my body. “Jen told me you were depressed again… I hope you don’t mind that we talked about it.”
I’ll give you something to talk about. How about you fill your mouths with my desire to drag a knife through my skin, past every beauty mark, because beauty marks lie. They don’t teach you that in charm school.
Smudged make-up doesn't lie. Lipstick looks better on his collar and across his chest like a faded painting. And you look better on the floor, so I can step, step all over you in my high-heeled shoes.
I may be a disappointment, but I can only be my own failure.
For so long I have worn nothing underneath this skirt, except the occasional slip of your finger. (waiting for something magical to happen) as if folds of skin and moist hidden places meant anything to anybody.
And I have to sit here and listen to female voices with my legs crossed. Cordless phone glued to my ear. Look no hands. Her voice entwining itself through every negative bone in my body. “Jen told me you were depressed again… I hope you don’t mind that we talked about it.”
I’ll give you something to talk about. How about you fill your mouths with my desire to drag a knife through my skin, past every beauty mark, because beauty marks lie. They don’t teach you that in charm school.
Smudged make-up doesn't lie. Lipstick looks better on his collar and across his chest like a faded painting. And you look better on the floor, so I can step, step all over you in my high-heeled shoes.
I may be a disappointment, but I can only be my own failure.