I can't see your blue eyes
Through these pink-tinted glasses
But I'm sitting here on the sidelines
Picking absently at the turf and wondering
When you're coming home
I can scream and I can kick
But if I don't tell you what's wrong
I suppose I'll just grasp at the driftwood and fall away
'Cause little bits of flotsam don't hold up, baby,
And I need to train my voice for you
Floating further away
I'm just your little cheerleader
Eight years old and yelling for the Packers
A photograph not meant for your memory
You have no right to cry over a situation you know nothing about
I can't hold my body down
But I can stretch my emotions around my words
You help the wool glide over your eyes and there's not a damn thing I can do
When you've got a social deathwish
I can't feel my arms but it scares me more that I can't feel yours
My lighthouse is dimming and I still can't see your eyes
Maybe taking off these pink-tinted glasses is the best idea
Author notes
I got tired of abstract poetry and wrote something that wasn't abstract, 'cos I can. I looked at my poetry and decided I wanted to write something that people could understand again. There are a couple metaphors but come on people... it's not nearly as hard to grasp as the abstract stuff. I realize I jump around a lot, but it's supposed to be like that... and actually I don't like this as much as my last one (which was abstract) but I don't want the abstract one up anymore
It does seem a little football-oriented in places but who on earth cares?
This is honestly not personal..I'm not having relationship problems..it just came out
Written July 25th, 2006
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Comments
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its goood im not gonna be all alpoetry about it and bag it then say its good it seriously is good... but football oh well..
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