What is this thing called life?
Supposedly a miracle at the start?
The miracle of life - on it's own - a beating heart.
What kind of miracle is that?
It's no miracle at all, as a matter of fact.
It's a life ruiner, a dream stopper too,
a goodbye to the future, a hello to the colors of pink or blue.
One night is all it takes, to change the course of life forever,
a night of fun, not meant to be a life wrecker.
Margaritas in and out of my hand like a bouncing ball,
I had enough - that was my final call.
Sweet words were said in persuasion,
I was stubling all over - he knew my situation.
Still pursuing - linking hands - a kiss on the cheek,
I couldn't fight anymore - I was just too weak.
When morning came, he kissed me goodbye -
promising a call, and then dinner and a movie -
he gazed into my eyes and smiled.
There was no call, or a dinner and a movie,
only a broken promise in the air forever lingering.
Weeks passed - weeks of me crying.
Crying - wondering why he wasn't trying.
He left me high and dry - to fend for myself -
the pain flowing through me - rich in wealth.
To find out that I was just "the girl" of the week,
and that he had a new "me" every week,
it tore my heart out -
he said that he was different -
and I believed him - having no doubt.
But here I am writing down my story as usual,
not sure what to make of what's going on.
Jagged black branches forming across my face,
although the tears are falling faster than normal,
forming a black veil of lace.
This veil covers a face; my face.
A face that shows nothing but confusion and hurt -
watching life pass her by,
as she doesn't know what to do with it,
and doesn't want anything to do with hers
