a blast from the past
Somewhere in the madness that is my mind, it seemed like a phenomenal idea to rearrange the bedroom when I got off work early today...yeah. 2 hours later my husband comes home to find me standing in the middle of what looks like ground zero with the most bewildered look on my face. Anyway, among the rubble I found a folder with a bunch of junk from high school in it - my feeble attempts at dark and brooding poetry, my ACT and PSAT scores, photocopies of sheet music for solos and small ensembles I sang with for district competitions, and a few Escher-esque tesselations with truly masterful titles, such as "Bird Doo on the Windshield."
Long story short (I know, too late), I read through my poems and actually found one worthy of unearthing. Untitled, but for some reason I felt compelled to date it, so I know for sure I wrote it just before my 17th birthday. Wow - nearly 9 years later, here it is.
Don't get too comfortable
He's bound to leave
Don't get attached
He's gonna deceive
Watch out for yourself
No one else will
Don't trust anyone
Because trust can kill
Don't say you love him
You'll only get hurt
You're playing with fire
And you're bound to be burnt
2 comments:
Everyone, sing along!
You're so vain...you probably think this poem's about you!
No, seriously, I don't remember who was the catalyst for this poem. But remember, you were not the first man in my life to desert me ;) You were just the smartest one - the one who came back.
"And I'm still just about that now."
Yeah, give or take ;)
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