The girls who are artists
are the girls who are the most lost
and all the things they ever wanted
are in the chalk dusted pad
The boys with the journals
are the boys who never were included
in those girls dreams
and all the longing for them
was in cramp inducing poetry
These girls
these boys
they never meet
they just stare at each other as they pass
Red lights
felt canvas oil paintings
warm spirits
cold cigarettes
too much time alone
Too much time missing out
too little time moving on
the boys and the girls
they never succeed
when all they do is want success
I saw a car drive off the road
this morning
and a large man with a beard ran to help
two other cars stopped
and i wondered how my life would have changed
if i'd just pulled over
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment