by Gregory Wilde  /  poetry  /  21 Oct 2007
How can you love her?
Pale and diseased,
Stretched into blond treasons,
Flirting with the boys,
While hanging ‘round the ceiling,
Don’t you see what she’s doing?
I saw her with Eggs and Cheese,
In the end she was the mean girl,
Somebody’s in-between girl,
Never saw her leave a party alone,
How could you love the swallowed?
Skinned into panther leather.
She doesn’t know the value of a nickel,
Blondie’s never bought a beer in her life,
The barflies will drown her bubbles,
Fixing stories and pulling her from the ceiling,
Her body was handled by teachers,
Your best friend even pulled her cords.
You loved that harlot?
Her lithium sunset b/t your hands,
I cursed myself for watching her mercury falling,
Her eyes were pure green,
Hardly even the same breed as you or me,
I think she lives on paper tigers,
Doesn’t even know the sent of milk and honey.
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