Bleach Perfume

Romance has gone comatose – a pretty girl who left a note that says ‘If I don’t wake, then take me (all of me) as your’s. Unhook the IV, drop the blinds, be sure to lock the door.” Romance is waiting to swallow me whole – alter the scales and distort the perspectives, force me to go to embarrassing sections of pharmacy stores, not know what to ask for. The magazine articles repeat each month but I am still stumped with an awkward lump in my throat. The note – oh the words of a girl: ‘If I don’t wake, you may make claim to my world.’ But I am suspicious when great things come easy and even more so when they’re given up freely. Romance is tired, it now lulls discretely in corners of bars hoping the next carload of drunks will bring someone that loves it, some tall thing well-dressed that calmly strides up with a smile and drink and bright thing to say. It hasn’t yet happened.


~ by perfectionatrix on March 19, 2012.

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