Boarding School Accent

Girl who felt like perfect gardens, futures filled with swimming pools, garages to fit import cars in, and emotional abuse, thought of you when I was driving back to Frederick Saturday. Congratulations on surviving, stumbling upon my way and not long after realizing you had nothing else to say. If I had a sensor that could tell me anything I would ask it to alert me when it captured your daydream, thinking of my eyes or the way laced fingers felt, afterglow & sighs, secrets made to tell. Then I would watch that sensor til I withered to a husk and you would break my lock to save me, whisk me off to country clubs and margaritas on verandas, khaki shorts and leather sandals, conversations about stocks and efforts to breed pandas – what I mean is I can see it, I know how it could happen and I know that I could be it and I’d probably be happy but there’s something awful else I guess that doesn’t want to see it – knows submission or completion is too far to be seeking or hastily achieving. Girl who felt like collared shirts, sculptures from the local crowd, prescriptions packed up in your purse, voice a notch or two too loud, I don’t say this because I don’t mean it.


~ by perfectionatrix on December 16, 2009.

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