Might as Well Give Him a Head Start
I found you in your room All wadded up like bubble-gum And covered in the marks of His territory Your hands were maps plotted At silent, secret meetings Your cheeks were sad-stained He face-painted in his corporate suit You looked at me, lying with your eyes Crying through your naked, lived-through breasts You said, 'I've gotta get away from this house' And lit another cigarette I hear the door open and shut She tells me he's hungry again It's time for me to go I ask her if she needs me to stay 'I'm used to it by now' She shrugs And opens up her legs Written September 10th, 2001 © on Sep 10 2001 01:09 PM PST, Katrina Armour 0 • 10
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"I found you in your room..."