She’s the kind of lady that calls everybody baby honey, sugar, sweetie, she’s always making friends and she keeps us all locked outside her thick leather skin she always starts with a smile, it’s small and butter yellow but easier than a handshake, doesn’t like her hands touched she tans alot, gets burnt alot smoking through the cartons but then gets put out so much, she’s considered a bargain she was born on the fourth of july with her hand on her heart loves america, & being patronized, no one ever told her to guard her heart she was an angel for halloween once, but never again and for christmas ever year she’s haunted by demons they always tell her they love her.
she used to believe in innocence until she lost it and spent a long summer, riding the trains she has cats and collectors plates to keep her sane watching TV in her favorite chair…both of which are rented she’s alone, and surrounds herself with loners her life is a loan, lent out to anyone who will own her waiting for the night to sweep her off her feet, while she mops the bathroom floor hoping for a winning ticket or a man to treat her right but they’re both a gamble and she’s been a loser all her life and if she had a nickel for every time she’s been punched and kicked she’d put it together with her camel cash, try to buy some happiness they always tell her they love her, but then they take something from her.
she would always show us her dreams they were crumpled up like leaves from holding on too tight scattered in her shoebox coffin on the cardboard walls covered in butterflies she’s got love in her heart for her babies, and hope in her mind for tomorrow and blood on her hands that only she sees, holding the last bit of time that’s borrowed but you never know where that heart has been, and we’ll never know how hard it’s been I wanna cut open my chest and let her in, but that won’t fix what needs to mend and she stands there unlit cigarette in hand filling up that empty hole with anything that’ll pour insides hanging out like a flare, warning. there’s beauty in that pain, can you see it? she’s crashing through life with seat belt hands one accident away from a miracle and there’s an honesty there, but I can’t take it all in she hides the worst of it in the wrinkles that’s the ache you get when there’s no where else to go. and she’s got no where else to go, she doesn’t want to go there. so I promise I’ll go with her.
"No, we weren’t lovers, but in a way we had opened ourselves to each other even more deeply than lovers do. The thought caused me a good deal of grief. What a terrible thing it is to wound someone you really care for - and to do it so unconsciously."