This institution is bleeding from the mouth.
Of course the world sits in your hazel stained glass windows.
And the lurker sits near your house of boxes hoping to read your lips of what you may be saying to the white horse.
So you turn your back towards the reminder.
Not even realizing in your immaturity and believing that your life is a Taylor Swift album, that you aren’t the Prodigal Daughter.
You assume I still care.
The train wreck you are about to become is headed for your heart.
They all believe you are the surface.
But I know you intimately enough to know that you are everything I assumed you were when we first put the rugs underneath each other.
And to think I looked past your words of logic such as, “I voted for John McCain because he’s a Christian.”
I still looked past your excitement of having Bibles verses in your phone…while you let me call you a dirty little White girl with a father fetish and had you calling me your Savior and begging me to baptize you.
We are both charmers and liars.
We fooled each other.
He can have you.
No one is that special.
Thank you for the favor.
© 2010 D.B.
No comments:
Post a Comment