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Poetry / Good Golly, Miss Ringwald, Your Hair Is On Fire! (I Hope You Can Hear Me From Your Pedestal)
I know it’s killing you to wonder what this means, at night.
Pretending “different boy, same scene” fits you right.
Let me know how you like this example:
Weak in the knees, warm at the ankles.
These aren’t lines,
they’re salvos.
These aren’t glasses,
they’re scopes.
This is a bullet addressed to your chest
and fired by a gun called “hope.”
This is you singing into switchblades
and taking a bow through the face.
Here is cheers to loaded friends
and aiming for “just in case.”
Your reputation’s in a coffin
for a name hotter than Hell.
Here’s to feds, meds, and empty beds.
Wedding bells and bullet shells.
The line between “cute” and “insane” is your smile
and I know where I stand when you frown.
And with promises like icebergs,
we couldn’t help but drown.
It’s tragic how I couldn’t kill you faster
than the very way you live.
And how the simple gift of time
was the gift you wouldn’t give.
Just know that lawyers are just liars in good suits.
And headlines are just headstones in bold print.
You ran out like I’ll run you out of business.
This is me telling you “I win.”
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‘Very Nice’
another great poem. the concept is grea so is the structure < works well. your language is, once again, clever/witty but i feel like im just saying the same things…sorry. things i liked:
“these aren’t…” < nice
“gun called hope” < sweet
“the line… is your smile” great
“aiming for just in case’
“promises like icebergs…”
“just know that….”
really good, just great, i really cant find anything wrong withit… so yea great job…
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