| better words . . . . here there and everywhere |
Used to be all I needed was one good song (you know the one) and maybe a cigarette to know that Summer was here. I remember you. Pictures made you seem so young, too young, and not mine. Three of us stoned, three of us not. The grass had never been greener. Lying next to you, I pretended you really wanted me. You pretended to get drunk. "Let's go somewhere" I said, meaning "Fuck me." "No" you said, meaning "No". I tried to kiss you that night. With all those colors, I hung off your neck and pleaded in your ear. I laughed each time you refused, and danced away from you, knowing it didn't matter. Because I had one good song and a cigarette. |
better places . . . . over under and through |