“Our bodies are made of stars” she read.
“Our bodies are littered in scars” she said.
There’s seven billion on one planet
and eight planets orbiting the sun.
So how can one thing so small
mean such a something to someone?
Day by day nothing is different but,
looking back it all has changed.
Like how roller turned to razor when talking about blades,
and smoke that once puffed from the chimney
is now dancing off cigarettes,
and sorry but ‘sorry’ doesn’t stick
when your glue is made from regrets.
So put your lipstick on right, pretty girl
or he won’t want you the right way,
and oh don’t put on too much, silly girl
or you’ll be asking for it, no matter how little you say.
Play pretending was much simpler, when the dragon was a cardboard box
now Romeo is not at your window, but he sure as hell is throwing rocks.
That scary monster never left she just crawled out from under the bed,
and she’s so much harder to find now that she’s swimming in your head.
She lingers on tongues and leaps from lips
and soon enough she’s screaming ‘sl*t’
because of the way you sway your hips.
“Our bodies are littered with scars” she said
but keep acting like you don’t care how you’ve grown.
There’s seven billion surrounding us
and we’re pretending to not feel alone.