maylita

Mardi Gras 2009.

His arrogance is unbelievable and your desires unattainable.

I'm standing on The Yacht and staring into the canal while Amy blows cigarette smoke in my face. I can see the disgust drip from the corners of her mouth as betrayal seethes from her pores like pus. My head hangs low with sadness, and each drag is deeper then the last, and done with intention.


My lungs are heavy with carcinogens.

We're standing in silence, because words mar the essence of our expression.

I'm imagining your face and body, and my stomach begins to turn-- Quick, another drag to quell the nausea.


Celebrate! Celebrate!
Another drink, another smoke
lose your shirt, this is no joke.

Their moans drift from an open bedroom door, and waft through the air.
The smell of satisfaction is stifling, and waves of awkwardness hit me again.

This may as well be my fault.

He comes upstairs, and cum covers the sheets.
He begs for a smoke as he slips his wedding band on.
He threatens to end his life, but his words are empty.

Our hearts are broken, our ears are dead.

The stars are out tonight.
I smell snow in the air.

Come up, come up!
Wipe the saliva from your cheek--
Tomorrow's outlook will be bleak.

In an effort to ignore the obvious, you are silently fuming.
In an effort to avoid the impending conflict, you are openly hating.
In an effort to hide your emotions, you are over it and over us.






You're not a hussy.
Please come home to me.