Must you hold her hand like that
the one without the ring?
When the moon wishes she were candles, lights
you're holding onto nothing.
Must you hold her hand like that?
It's blood diamond clear
she's the angel in your snow
all cut up on the mirror
I pity the bones in her fingers
crushed like when she learns
your letting go is not the wind
you're always lit, you always burn
Must you hold her hand like that
for all of thirty feet?
If you don't want them looking
I'd quit looking at me.
love me
- dolly at school
- She was Lo. Plain Lo in the morning. Standing five foot two in one sock. She smoked in her car and sang to herself. She wrote songs in her head when you took her on dates. She was jazz. She was the blues. She was high. She was not an artist, but she was good at a few things. That's why they still call her. And you should keep reading.
2 comments:
Is this your poetry? I'm guessing it is, because they all seem like they were written by the same person. I love the way you write, it's beautiful and honest.
Yoooouuu guessed it.
Thank you ever so kindly.
<3
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