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untitled (he likes the broken girls...)
he likes the broken girls
whose pain translates
easily girls he can tell
tales of painting pictures
of their ashen faces
bandaged wrists
late night stomach pumpings
life stories twisting
spinning like tops
flying out of control
if not for the quick reflexes
of his savior's hand plucking
free falling girls from the air
weak wings failing
skin too thin
like baby birds
with sightless black eyes
necks straining
against the heavy weight
of their own minds
i am too strong
for his brand of love
but weak enough
to wonder
- September 2002
Posted November 5, 2002 11:41 AM | On This Day: 2003