She knows without a doubt
he can write
pick up the shattered pieces
of her heart
leave it in mid-flight
as all the parts of herself
others love
she hates.
Then her mirror reflects
her various misplaced fates.
Heavy snow
bears upon her
tree lights
dismiss her dreams.
Her head is messed up
the way he cradles her in bed
she continues to sing
nursery rhymes
no one is too old to hear
she has an audience for her worded tears
as Christmas nears.
At Indigo, she waited for the gift-wrapping
moka avec caramel salé?
Non, merci.
Carte spéciale?
Non merci.
Caffe latte and Ryan Adams
at the cash.
Should she give Starbucks more money than 10.00 for 2 coffees?
Should she? Shouldn’t she questions
damned on a a one way street.
Thinks about him removing her clothes
when ugly sweater parties await,
but in the middle of it all
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georgeforfun 