It started as our dream
We was a team, no games
til you put me under CREAM,
suddenly, we're both playin
Keepin secrets of my own,
he don't see, I'm not stayin
Whispered nothings on the phone,
So fresh, now decayin.
Countin the grands and hoes,
and there was a lotta those -
doin damage, now we bleedin,
each affair, heavy blows
(c)
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Still standing
I remember this one time being on a streetcar downtown around 2 in the morning. It was fairly empty, possibly spring time, and there was just me and two other people riding the transit. One of the two was a girl who seemed about my age. At least I thought she was a girl but I was distracted by her wardrobe. I remember thinking, "What the hell is she wearing?" as it was still moderately cold and she was wearing next to nothing - shorts, fake ugg boots and a hoodie. I remember her two finger gold ring that I've always wanted, her violet contacts, and her(his?) pencil brows. But of course I'm not here to write about a girl(guy?) in 4 degree weather, wearing shorts, fake ugg boots and a hoodie.
The other person on the bus was an average looking man - probably in his thirties. He looked a very comfortable man with his dark suit and shiny shoes. But the most interesting thing about him was his face. It was screwed up in anguish as if he was about to cry in any second. But then a few minutes he'd switch his face and look fine. It was a face of a man in sorrow trying to console himself - and failing miserably. He was biting his lip and tapping his feet - a detail that hasn't faded because I remember how annoyed I was at the sound of the heel that his shiny shoe was making. His eyes were swollen, his lips were pouted and it looked like somebody had just died.
I've never seen someone so sad before, but I think that's probably what I looked like today. I've always been a lucky girl; the priviledged, spoiled socialite. Most people don't even know what love is, and maybe now, I don't either. But every person has a problem. And sometimes our masks slip and everybody gets a glimpse of what's going on inside, even for a second - whether we like it or not.
I've never been this sad before.
The other person on the bus was an average looking man - probably in his thirties. He looked a very comfortable man with his dark suit and shiny shoes. But the most interesting thing about him was his face. It was screwed up in anguish as if he was about to cry in any second. But then a few minutes he'd switch his face and look fine. It was a face of a man in sorrow trying to console himself - and failing miserably. He was biting his lip and tapping his feet - a detail that hasn't faded because I remember how annoyed I was at the sound of the heel that his shiny shoe was making. His eyes were swollen, his lips were pouted and it looked like somebody had just died.
I've never seen someone so sad before, but I think that's probably what I looked like today. I've always been a lucky girl; the priviledged, spoiled socialite. Most people don't even know what love is, and maybe now, I don't either. But every person has a problem. And sometimes our masks slip and everybody gets a glimpse of what's going on inside, even for a second - whether we like it or not.
I've never been this sad before.
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