Puddles At Your Feet

I don't sleep anymore. I just lie down and arise later unaware of what transpired between then and now. The pretty peacocks self-destruction flaunts in therapies of bad behavior.

Humility bites its lip. To be fetching. As all girls are oblidged to do. Stick out their legs so that someone will stumble. Inventory the males and decide which ones to keep.

The flattened parachutes of lovers fallen. Little toll booths along the highway of the heart. Checking to see how lost we are.

But I was different because I wanted to be lost. Always did. For them to look and not be able to find me. For them to feel just once like I do all the time.

Where all the words disappear like snowflakes melting. Where every storm is a blizzard that makes it easier to see. How far I could've fallen. How little I actually did.

Because the world is full of unhappy people. And I'm just one of them.

Those puddles at your feet, look closer, they're probably someone you thought you could love.