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Aug. 27th, 2002 | 06:05 pm

talula and I wrote this, our epic poem to and from no one in particular. The bits that are underlined are my handywork, to give tiffay credit where credit is most certainly due.

Dearest one,

To me, you're not just a woman,
You're more than a woman.
More than a woman to me.
I think I love you more
than I've ever loved before
can't we walk along the shore?
forever more, mi amour?

Smeared mascara,
never washed from the pillow we shared,
and a shoe under the bed,
a broken anklestrap,
broken,
like my heart,
is broken.


but then you come to me
bare feet
stepping along the shattered remnents of my heart.
and you demand my heart!
and your shoe.
but they're broken,
and I can't afford the repairs.
I've started a Savings Account Of Love,
and my first priority is you.
and your shoe.

I remember a time,
not long ago,
when it did not ache,
to think of four inch heels,
when bare feet
was running with you,
in a meadow,
wildflowers,
here, there,
in your hair,
without a care.


I wish we could recapture
what once came so easy.
a careless kiss.
a casual touch.
a quickie in the back of your pick-up truck.
but now when I see you,
I only see what once was.
kisses
caresses
a cheap vodka buzz.
and I know we must go on,
and start life anew.
but it's hard to go on
here,
without you

red leather and lipstick,
parliament cigarettes,
a fake ID that said
your name was Candida,
the night we met,
stale air,
and stale sweat,
a ring on your finger,
a band of gold,
spaghetti strap sun dress
in the moonlight,
say drinks on me
and I was on you


and there we were
like never before
me as the Princess
you as the Whore.
crimson lips
never told such lies!
as you whispered,
"no, I'm not married.
I've no use for guys."
a glance at the ring.
a nervous giggle reply.
"I've an obsession with the home shopping,"
then a flash of a thigh.
and suspicions were cast
straight to the wind
as you quickly became
More Than a Friend.

Sandalwood incense,
and Krazy with a K,
lick your dry lips,
keeping the lies at bay,
with my tongue,
sat close to me,
on the cracked black leather,
told me these lies,
about forever,
false fingernails,
pastel underthings,
feminine wiles,
and sharp canine teeth.

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