So I sifted through some of the pages. Turning them as they dried allowing the next few to have their chance at survival. And while many of these very sad (both literally and figuratively) poems have the same tone, there was one that I thought (after a few margaritas at dinner) I might just be willing to share. If I thought blogging about my father was wearing my heart on my sleeve (which I JUST admitted to someone today that I do not do), this is really laying it all out there. Ah, the blessing and curse of tequila.
So here goes:
How can you look at my like that,
With emotionless baby blues ?
Your beauty fails me right now in my mild state of hysteria,
which is slowly increasing.
I've wasted ink on you.
I've wasted energy and anger.
I've wasted tears, these tears
knowing you don't deserve them.
How can you ignore this?
How can you avoid my bloodshot eyes?
Waste a tear on me, a word, anything
for the time I've wasted here with you.