Mice
It wasn't a mouse
trap when I asked of her -
it was when you soured
your face and
wrinkled your shirt,
you lurked, and you say you
weren't hurt, I taste
resentment, and there's no smirk
on my face
when I asked if you were still thinking of her.
It was that movie we watched,
wasn't it?
The mouse who fell in love with the cat, and I'm a
mouse and you pounce at my
false starts, s' your nature to
break hearts, and mine to sniff every corner.
Yes, I searched your mind, and
find, I did, I found her, and I guess I shouldn't be
hurt that you prefer your mice
dumb.
Yeah, we're done, but don't blame me becuaase
I didn't run.
Friday, June 13, 2008
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1 comment:
I haven't seen much of your work, but in what I have I see a strong sense of rhythm. It's like it's meant to be said, like the lines are meant to be pronounced. Not only that, the wording reaps the emphasis from exactly the right spots.
Some phrases smack of pop lyrics, like "to break hearts" and "we're done", but otherwise, I'm enjoying.
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