Some old words
I’m supposed to be writing this
love letter on pretty stationery
with roses and flourishes. But
love isn’t pretty like that. At least
my love isn’t. My love is messy
and disorganized. I’m lucky
when I can keep it in the margins.
My love is scribbled on napkins
with pens running out of ink…
in my drunken, sloppy script at
4 a.m. I’ve
played too hard
drank too much
partied too late.
I’ve lost my shoes,
smeared my lipstick
and my mascara’s running down
my face onto this page. The ink’s
gonna run and I’m in trouble.
I’m in a bind and only you can set me loose.
If only I could find you.
Did you run off with that
girl-faced boy? Again?
Don’t you love me, pretty darling?
Messy and out of context, sure,
but I know you love me.
Won’t you come
and set me loose?