Like a raging alcoholic I’ve come back to you.
maybe it’s a mistake, yes. But,
I thought, just this once
if I try one more time
perhaps you will give me what I so yearn
never give up they told me
when I was young and immature
skipping around school in a swirling skirt
dream all you can and you’ll be great
oh, what bull shit, throw it in a crate
some might say it’s not the right thing
not for me, and not for you
but I’ve come back for you
like a helplessly scared child
following her mother’s heels
despite being cast away
ignored and wanted no more
you were all I could think of
on every great stage I went
people think I’ve moved on
to higher places, shinier things
I’ve got a studio in New York city
grand deluxe with a double-sized bed
It’s more than I need, of course
but isn’t even half of what I wanted
I’ve got wardrobes filled with sequins
studded dresses, party skirts, and smarty pants
everything to make anyone happy
alas, anyone but me
I know we’re no longer the same
but, oh, how much it’d mean
to hold you in my arms, cradle your spine,
to read you through mine eyes,
sitting in the porch, wine by the side
glasses over my eyes, and a pencil in my hand
let’s do this, my dear first draft
it’s time you come out of the cupboard