She Was Me
By violetfyre
It was ten 'til 9 and she was still tying off The last few threads of her childhood. They lived every Wednesday in a decade That was just learning how to crawl, But spoke of their dreams Like rocking chair grandpas. They always looked back. She'd spent all weekend watching paint dry And imagining the second hand moving faster than usual. The only one that missed her was The case of beer on the bathroom floor at home, And the dark, violent addict Stoned 150 miles south... If he'd notice she's gone. She listened to the constant flushing Of toilets as the maintenance men cleaned. Scrub and rinse, boys, scrub and rinse; There's no one here to hear you anyway, Save the hopeless romantic Who can't quite decide if she exists Or if she'll ever die. The temperature approached 900 as She tipped further back in her chair, Ignoring her throbbing ankle, A bruise easily earned from last night's joyrides. She was me once, ambitious and law-abiding, Yet treacherous with love. And there was never any pain. **Eh, it's something, I guess. ** Written March 24th, 2002 © on Mar 24 2002 02:21 PM PST 18 • 0 • 10
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"It was ten 'til 9 and she was still tying off..."