Coathanger Love
April 20, 2002 @ 2:30 p.m.
The lies have begun, spun
into gold hairstrings
and things.
The coathanger love, the shortchanger
rearranger blamer love,
thrown at me like darts,
pierced me like arrows.
I've begun to say
what I shouldn't have said,
crossed borders, followed orders
picketed lines, for nothing.
Rolled eyes of frustration --
sold sighs of nonchalance --
the only response.
The rusty grins, sins
brought on by my soul, take
their toll.
And I collect dust and conform
to the norm
although all I want to
do is be with you.
<< | >>
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