deepundergroundpoetry.com

Morning Coffee

Not everybody's used to being used, I see.
And not every shout is a call for help, I believe.
The boys line up and kiss a girl.
I ask about her, this girl that they make their whole world.
And they scream, "She's my everything, my every disease.
Her breath smells white and tastes like pollution to my lungs.
But don't you ever think for a second that I'm not in love."
I catch glimpses of these lost boys' eyes and they're insane.
Once more, they kiss the girl at the same time, foolish Mary Jane.
My bones shiver as I notice they're being used but they haven't a clue.
She's the only one who can help the bruised.

I've given up, given up on wise owl eyes and ghostly hearts.
I've broken knots and I've flown by myself to a maroon mars.
And I'm so sick and tired of looking for something I have never known,
Like a family, like real friends, on this lonely road.
It's like morning coffee that's turned from brown to black.
And, sweetie, I know that's a sick metaphor but
How else am I to sing of fear than to speak of
Something as distasteful as hatred?
You're my morning coffee, I swear...

And he left me, left me, he left me for a Malibu queen, I think.
I told myself that he just couldn't handle being free.
But he left me and I didn't do a thing wrong, I know.
I know sparrows crawl with the stars at night to choke.
Someday, I'll find my sparrow, my little swan.
Will you be my swan or is that wrong?
Maybe I'm too wasted to think with this love letter entangled in my throat.
It's making it difficult to pull this boat.
With one mistake, we could fail this boat's plan to float.
I'm sorry I'm not my skin these days.
It's someone else's pain.
And I'm looking to get out, get out, I want out.

I've given up, given up on wise owl eyes and ghostly hearts.
I've broken knots and I've flown by myself to a maroon mars.
And I'm so sick and tired of looking for something I have never known,
Like a family, like real friends, on this lonely road.
It's like morning coffee that's turned from brown to black.
And, sweetie, I know that's a sick metaphor but
How else am I to sing of fear than to speak of
Something as distasteful as hatred?
You're my morning coffee, I swear...

Now I've got someone else, a new tabloid gossip, I guess.
I'm swimming with bats and tigers, on my way to getting the best.
You see, I'm his Mary Jane.
I don't give a damn about what you have to say.
My heart is a drum and I have to say, I like how it sounds.
No threads looking to be sewn.
No pillows to be thrown.
What's happened to us, what we've done, we've lived the same.
I'm not desperate enough to try to rain on your little parade.
I'm happy now, not sinful now.
Baby, I'm new and fucking improved, you know?

I've given up, given up on wise owl eyes and ghostly hearts.
I've broken knots and I've flown by myself to a maroon mars.
And I'm so sick and tired of looking for something I have never known,
Like a family, like real friends, on this lonely road.
It's like morning coffee that's turned from brown to black.
And, sweetie, I know that's a sick metaphor but
How else am I to sing of fear than to speak of
Something as distasteful as hatred?
You're my morning coffee, I swear...
Written by flystaar (Familiar)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3 reading list entries 1
comments 6 reads 66
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
POETRY
17th August 1:57pm by admin
COMPETITIONS
6th June 9:17am by admin
COMPETITIONS
4th June 3:24pm by admin
SPEAKEASY
16th May 1:07pm by admin
POETRY
11th May 11:35am by katalon_test_user
POETRY
9th May 1:15pm by admin