I am standing beside the door greeting guests,
And so god-damn thirsty,
Dousing fire with whiskey and ice when
She walks in, smelling like crushed petals and Italian wine,
And a name I don’t remember
But her dress lingers on and on like crisp white sails,
The only thing I can think about is maybe
She’ll dance with me but the bathroom mirror
Is an honest friend, speaks the truth of my condition,
So I spend the night talking to a car
And everyone else.
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Comments (5)
What you see in the bathroom mirror does not speak the truth of your condition, your mind does.
… and thus our minds we must tame.
but it is a magic mirror. =)
Start writing! ^_^
As your future publisher, I have to get you used to deadlines, ya know!
What shall I write Madame Publisher?