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Array
(
[sid] => 151807
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Note To Self #18 (Explosive Bouquets)
[time] => 2009-07-29 17:12:43
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Note to self: Love is not easy. The pavement leaves pebble marks on the bottom of my feet, I was so upset that I left without my shoes but didn't care enough to go back and get them. The neighborhoods alight with tribute to freedom while the only sense of freedom I've had was running out the door. It used to be so different between us. I try to chalk it up as "We've been together for four years." "The fireworks fade after a while." "That's how relationships are." But those excuses are not settling this evening. For three hours I sat there on the couch, dolled up and waiting for you to come in from working on your so called "baby". All I wanted was to have a night out by ourselves; to just lay back and enjoy the sights of the sky.... but it never happened. I can feel their eyes on me as I walk down main street; mascara river cheeks, curler-set hair askew. From behind me I hear them giggle and remark on how I'm probably just another drunk girl who somehow managed to get her high-heels stolen, but the only thing stolen was...love. Sometimes I wonder if I had the word Honda tattooed on my ass if it would make any difference. Rather than a bouquet of flowers with a note attached asking me if we could talk before there's no us to talk about would I receive one just because... you wanted to? Probably not. The orange construction tape slips over my back and the DO NOT ENTER sign passes my nose. I lay down in the lawn of a now abandoned home scheduled for demolition to put in a new freeway. The newly fallen dew soaks the back of my blouse and I try to clear my mind for just a moment. I close my eyes and the world goes on without me. The night fills with echoes of cannons and whistles and the sky is lit with man-made artificial stars that spread and dissipate in clouds of grey smoke. Tonight's not about freedom, it's about explosions. The blowing up of a relationship long overdue and bouquets that mean something, but nothing. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 180 [topic] => 32 [informant] => Dragons_Of_Rose [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => SadPoetry )
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