Two-hundred and Forty-nine: pig promises

he wants me to use his pig promises to write a poem about him,
but today, inside, i am a relentless monochromatic kaleidoscope,
and all i can hope for is to get through it without too much gin.
my eyes feel thin today. weak and easy to pop. the rain has stopped
and i’ve picked up where it left off. i want to bake a cake but
i don’t want to eat it. my pride strikes me at the strangest moments.
he wants me to use his pig promises to write a poem about him
but all i can think of is how i can’t do this, be with someone for
more than one night. i’m aways fighting the urge for flight.
but he doesn’t know this. because i am so damn good at smiling.
and he jokes about the crazy, but he has no idea. and when -if-
he finds himself blind from the fog in my head, i bet he’ll oink off.
and that’s okay because i’m tired of always being the one to pull away.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

4 thoughts on “Two-hundred and Forty-nine: pig promises”

  1. He is still telling you that you are sweet, pretty and different but you are still refusing to believe they are more than just words. So this time you will out stubborn the guy, till he gives up and goes away, just so you can still say, “see they were just words.”

    I’m on to you girl ;).

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