Tonight I Will Write...

Hello Chaos. Come to me Nonchalantly. Sit me down sane On a chair that creaks And reeks of your remains Inane. Sing to me Of darkest hours And flowers that died Withered Under snow boots and Winter cars. Laugh about poppies of South And wrinkly eyes With a small mouth. Slip away in disdain And experience surreal screeching pain. Dead but alive? Tale of seventy-nine. Meet chaos, Permanent resident Old friend o' mine.

My bed has more wrinkles than my face. It tells me stories of last night's delusional daze. Your hands, scratching the innermost linings of my beautiful soul. Couldn't help but notice that your sweat-laden face has a mole. Your rhythmic moves strum the strings of my heart. Don't get carried away, this doesn't hint a new start. Pearls trickle down my face, as you down a glass of water. Promises are not kept and relationships are made to order. -NJ