On the tracks

And here you are again.

And I'm going to say it does not matter.

I'm going to act like its nothing,

Like that spot where you lay is no more then a warm place in my bed.

I'm going to respond to all those remarkable things you say with open ended statements.

"True' "I suppose"

I will carry myself like your just one of many,

Just a pretty someone, who entertains me.

But in the back of my mind I'll know.

You're just a pretty form of suicide

And my heads on the tracks again.

And maybe I'll just lay here

Maybe it won't come in the next hour,

And maybe it won't come in the next week.

But I'll look for it, everytime you smile

Everytime you open that lovely mouth of yours to speak.

Wait for it....

Wait for it....

Breath...

But what a lovely way to die.

Reviews

[Eagle Cruagh]

You justify your addiction in the last line.
"But what a lovely way to die."
Sorry ! This seemed to be a series with a moral.
The moral that indulgence is the beginning of death.
But, you turn it around and negate death by glorifying
the indulgence.
Still great writing.
----- EAgle Cruagh

[Lori]

This is really different. I love the twist at the end where the poet just sort of gives into the moment and quiets the other thoughts. It's very clever, as it captures those feelings we get when we know it's all wrong, but it's also SO RIGHT.