Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: She's A Pretty Amputation Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Sunday 12/23/2007 01:12:00 AM

Riding the carousel she thought the horses had the advantage. Moving so many without having taken a single step.

It always took days for her clothes to fit and by then she had to take them off. It's no fun being dirty all by yourself. It's no good being dirty if there's no one who wants to lick up the mess.

She made an omelet for herself. Out of all the foods the refrigerator had left in it. It tasted like the last time she remembered having been touched. Empty, but her still wanting more of the nothing.

She took a sharp knife and dew her pictures in the onion. A teary coloring book foul with pictures undone. She sealed the envelope and almost put the stamp on it. Letters to no one. Carousels still spinning. Long after the horses are dead.

It was easy to be her she thought as her skin fell to the floor.

I was always just pretending that I wasn't alone.

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