Peddle Promises

wicker dresser

as she pulled her screen door shut she remembered she forgot something.
she slipped off her tattered shoes with the worn in heels and ran barefoot up her cold wooden stairs. she opened the door to her dusty room and grabbed her innoncence off her cracked wicker dresser, she thought to herself, 'i still need this.'

young love was worse than heroin.

the thought of you with her is like a gut wrenching twist that has stolen my stability. at that point in time, the one we both remember, then and there was when i felt whole with you. only for that brief frame did I ever think that it would last.
you were a constant battle in my fragile yet panic stricken heart. i knew i needed out but the doors seemed dull and boring with jageded door knobs and broken locks.
young love was worse than heroin for my fragile frame.

she was tiny and frail but her bones held enough passion to break his soul.
he said, i can tell your trouble.
she rolled her eyes and thought to herself, you have no idea.
enough battle scars and broken windows for such a young heart.
he told her, i can feel your pain in your palpatations,
its a sweet sensation like a sickness the sickness that you love to breathe.

if i breathe in real deep i can remember your dirty sheets and empty coffee cups.
i shouldve never dabbled with your conscience, i wish i wouldve taken note
of your damaged mind and ran home.

i still love you

i pulled my shirt up over my head today to show the world my heart.

heavy

darkness is a home
and
when you date the devil you ashes are heavy.

in an old wicker chair i read from my old journal, posts of how i missed your touch. i sat there in my summer time cut off jean shorts, your t shirt and a dirty pair of sandals.

dont think that i forgot you or
that my heart doesnt remember your cold breath.
dont think my mind falls short to remember your pain.
your the devils angel to me now.

yours.

it was your heart on the line.
and now
i found out your wrists were made of steel.

i hung my thoughts by string from my ceiling and watched them swing back and forth

old cigarettes and southern bells.
he was the kind of guy thatd leave her bleeding.

loosing

she had to come down,
but from now on it was her against herself.
she had every intention of loosing.

for good this time

she knew your eyes were lying,
they were glazed over as you stared at your feet.

she watched his hand shake while he touched her chin.
the only thing they had in common now was the ground
they were standing on.
her mind had been made up and she
was leaving,
for good.

too careful

if youre too careful itll all get turned the other way.
stand there and breathe while you look to your left.
dont believe if they say the dreams have caved in,
believe if they say the dreams have flooded and
overdosed the rest of us.

the ghost in you.

an empty cup of tea while i wait to pull you out from the inside.
egg whites and a black mind.
tongue tied to say the least, your stutter made me shutter
leaving me trying to pull myself out from the inside.
all the papers lined the table
while i kept falling over.
he said, "angels fall like rain."
i gained my balance after my engined died
to tell you that the ghost in you will never die.
she wont fade.

street corners and coffe cups

Black tea and apples go well together,
like percoset and tired bones.

you carry your sword under water
and let the chemical weapon in
your heart fight this battles.