[bbzSpace Falling Objects]
She's like the wind... One minute, she's destructive... The next, she's still, silent, as if never even there... She's like the wet spot that's always left there... That one tries avoiding, but then you giggle because you remember what caused it and say it was worth it... She's the moment in your life when reality steps in and screams to run for cover, but wonderment keeps you near... She's the shiver of chills you feel when you sit alone in a darkened room. The steady ticking of the clock. The pitter patter of the mice. The loud *BANG* outside!... But it's her voice that engulfs you like the harmful smoke that I breath, sucking it deep down inside... because no matter how hard you try, you always seem to need one more hit... Her touch is like a flame on a matchstick... Capable of burning if you get too close, yet the scars seem necessary ... like an eye witness to a crime... And her eyes hold a power my very own soul cannot refuse. To see her is to Want her. To Want her is to Love her. To Love her is to risk Losing her... As untouchable as she is, I know I could never replace her... She's like the flashing red warning sign you see as your speeding through the gates... knowing full well that complete disaster awaits you but the rush urges you on. And as you lie broken and alone in a mangled mess, you remember nothing but her... The Beauty and The Pain. The Laughter and The Tears. The Love as well as The Hate... But if given the chance, you are asked ... would you do it again? Yes, you'd reply. For Pleazant's just simply my own momentary lapse of (in)sanity
*·.¸.·°*× ©2000 Lady Strange AKA: Pleazantry ×*·.¸.·°*
You said you hated cooking, but you served
several meals of pain to me most days;
morning, afternoon and late night snacks
of loneliness. The portions kept increasing,
and I kept putting away more and more
leftovers. Some went into the frozen darkness,
and I’d never think of them again: stuffed
far in the back, sealed bags of spicy disdain
so often set before me; disapproval pie;
sweetened condemnation; small casseroles
of accusation, seasoned with suspicion;
resentment rolls, collected through the years.
I kept getting full, and overfull,
and gaining weight, so when I shut the door
this one last time, I wanted to make sure
you were securely on the other side,
since larger doors are costly. I should know;
I’m just a lowly housewife, and poor.
Instead, you dreamt of dating whiskey bottles,
well-dressed Tequila shots or virile doctors just for
the perscriptions. I'm not sure why you married me...
this plain, outspoken woman. Was I just someone to entertain
our boy, or to get you take-out or take you to finer restaurants,
or dine with you or not and never care?? Maybe I was just
someone to do the dishes or take out the garbage?? Well, if so,
then you never really lied to me, I guess.
I finally tasted the last heaped dollop of silence. And the one
thing I miss the most is my favorite bowl I lost when I kicked you out.
And what do I tell our boy?? Sorry Dravyn... Daddy took a raincheck!!
