Pretty On Paper

This all sounds a lot better in my head

So why place it on a page instead

Old habits die hard I guess

Maybe these words might help her to undress or confess or ease her distress

I don’t know – I never did – possibly I never will

Perhaps I just like the look, of filled hand written notebooks

She says she wants me for me

I say that’s highly unlikely

I’m lying under these sheets like a ghost

I’m lying under these sheets in the west coast

I’m lying under these sheets about the things I love most

The first thoughts in my head should be my own – no?

I gave up on the definition of ‘home’ a long time ago

I tell her what I write, that’s not poetry

That’s just unformed thoughts on a page

That’s just some poor outlet for my rage

That’s just an entertainer without a stage

It’s all just an untamed bird in a cage…