By sarah iristakeroot@aol.com
Date: 24 June 2000
crimson pillow
you asked me not to mumble into the pillow
that i held over my mouth
that i covered myself with
if only to forget i had words
coming out of me
i looked over at the tequila
and wondered how it would taste with just
orange juice and if it was enough to get
me drunk and realize memory is fleeting
when i have it coursing through my veins
i sat in the dark after you left
when my silence drove you to the door
and you didn't want to turn around and even
catch a glance of me lying hapless on the sofa
with my feet thrown carelessly about me
i couldn't tell you that my silence is my armor
the thing that holds me in and intact
whenever you get to near because i can't afford
to pay the price again and let my heart bleed
freely and stain crimson across the floor matching
the thrown about pillows in the living room
maybe in the flickering candle light and the cold
pizza by my casual arm would tell a story of how
the loneliness came at night and took me away
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