| |
I spent most days counting
the days I’d have you near.
I’m not stuck a twenty-one
year old just dreaming
about having a guy like you.
I’m stuck writing poetry
and watching old movies
about the love people had.
I’m like Carole Lombard.
I’m profane but classy.
I know, they know
about me and you
since you made me scream
that day in Scotland.
But I wasn’t mad at you,
I was mad at myself
for not letting you in.
You’re like Clark Gable.
King of the Silver Screen
and secretly, in love with me.
And love only made me go insane
when it comes down to you
and the stories I’ve grown fond of.
Stars of the old movies paved a way
for people like us to find a soulmate
to call the one and to waltz with.
But I’m the one to cry over missing you
when our story just barely began.
I’ll die like Carole Landis
if things continue on like this.
I don’t want to leave the Earth
when I’m stuck singing
the same old tune
about the same old things.
I don’t want to be that girl.
I don’t want to be without you.
But Old Hollywood Stars,
don’t see the world like I do.
They see what they’ve left.
I see something that’s empty,
and sad, and depressing
because you are not in it.
Don’t be like Rex Harrison.
To leave me blue is something
you wouldn’t be able to do.
It’ll leave something bad
in a world that’s already broken.
I don’t want to be Marilyn Monroe
calling you on the phone for days
just to get torn apart like he did
to me at twenty-two.
I don’t want to leave the Earth
hoping that I’ve made a difference.
I’m just Bonnie Parker
writing down the journey she made
without you by her side.
She’s made to make a name for herself
but she’s stuck hiding away from the world
because the world feared
the poet who writes about the world
like how she saw it.
But I’m twenty-five and I’m breaking down
out of sight, and lonely.
I know how schedules can be
but busy don’t make our bodies
collide like it will in August.