Forward calls, voicemail full
Store away the wings, ride the bull
Expose the mask, clean the wool
Give sheeple a tug, see if heart can pull

Cotton balls or iron spoons
Pay for love through blackened rooms
Seen as gain but more cartoons
Heard them crying over popped balloons

Walk away again, bury my hope
You gave him love, he gave you rope
Sinful tongue must clean with soap
Life just means I cannot cope

Sunday here, someday gone
Won’t even bother writing a Dear John…
Might stick around and watch his dawn
But he took me down like a baby fawn

He set the bar low but it is nonexistent
Perhaps it is there and I only missed it
If it’s a girl with missing panties, he will crawl persistent
If it’s an angel with a heartbeat, he will keep his distance

© Delia Ross. 2019

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“Still looking for someone
Who was around
Barely coping
Now I hate myself
Wish I’d die” (-)