#wordycook #sanfrancisco (via fhotoroom)
replacing facts with the phrase I’m fine, I’m just fine,
and the more that I think, enough is never quite enough.
I felt the heart beat wear me down, hoping with a selfish fear,
that I’d be up another restless night, just to watch you sleep and I haven’t prayed for angles since I was a child but the holes bore love in my stomach once again,
this time you weren’t there
For a brief moment I felt a force,
Keeping it simple, the facts were that
I am fine, we all know that enough is never enough. Taking it in the way of a man, my voice was shakey and my heart took me down.
I realized right then you were perfect. And my teeth burst in my head, it was like a picture I once knew in my head, the one where my thoughts were intact
The point in a life when your lungs felt empty And you were breathing inside of person that you Never knew, and all these simple words could never explain How broken I was. Looking for love literally in every place and person, Because I was souvenir of someones thrill. And the worries mounted my mind, that only Misery would sufice.
And then you found me. And the me that was me Seized to be.
when you’ve proved all that you know is true, and they ask for more, it may be time….
she jumped for me, laying in a bed of false sentiment
and I floated on her crimson tides.
her ghost choking my lungs, I stuck my head in the oven to clear my
sinuses, now we both haunt this home, in loving memory
on Friday nights we flicker the lights, it’s the little things,
that’s all we have left.
hands stained with the smell of onions and garlic, my skin becomes oily like butter,
and sweat pours as the printer spits out order after order,
and my eyes read and my body does, reaching for the things which compose the
plate, my feet move with rhythm and my cooks dance around each other
moving in perfect harmony,
‘behind’ ‘corner’ and ‘below’ listing off their positions on the line,
and my arms hold oven door burns and my hands cake with flour,
spinning dough that’s been made with love and passion.
and at the end of the night when I’m all alone and the
place is still alive buzzing with beat of machinery,
I smile because I get to practice what I love.
no hope to give only lowering her down,
and all the friends never say goodbye, leaving without a word,
theres nothing to celebrate, she feels worse off without them,
dinning on a feast at a two star hotel, knowing thew whole time
she’d never stay in the same spot, she was shaking new hands
offering stories from a past that never happened.
her tongue all rung out, already they want her. it seems so cruel
like the parasites that eat her thoughts.
‘these people will never even know you’
then the curtain comes out and the crowd fans out,
there’s no reason for her to stay, no it won’t be long till she’s in a new place.