Pretty girls in skirts
Struggle with the imprecise weight of their confidence,
Carrying it like a dead body on their backs,
Wrapping it in a blanket of terror
Dripping with the stench of blood to be bled,
They nod their thanks
Who lose their own tongues in the abruptness of their complements,
And blush when they see the heap of muscles on the ground
With their arms crossed and faces straight,
Pretty girls never meet any of the eyes telling them the things they already know,
They walk on,
Occasionally stopping to seat their cadavers on park benches
And stare, blankly at all the men that sit right in those lifeless laps!
Twiddling their thumbs as they notice the chill seeping in,
Searching for Courage,
And getting up to leave when all they can find is his cousin.
Pretty girls sit quietly
On bar stools,
In loud rooms,
Conversing with no one and everyone, all at once,
Hoping that tomorrow they can just wear a skirt and be done.
It’s like I am watching you remember all the reasons you’re mad. I see your face fall. Feel mine falling too as your smile disappears. I see your brow furrow. Your mouth tighten into a sing line. “Ok.” And while I’m reminding myself not to push so hard, I hear your laugh. And it traps me in the mistaken belief that I’ll feel your love again soon.
It’s not much of a life you’re living
It’s not just something you take it’s given
Round and around and around and around we go
Oh now tell me now tell me now tell me now you know
Not really sure how to feel about it
Something in the way you move
Makes me feel like I can’t live without you
And it takes me all the way
I want you to stay