Thursday, November 19, 2009

Play With Me

Those are the same eyes that used to look at me
as though I was the greatest thing since mashed bananas in a jar
since peanut butter on crackers
since macaroni and cheese
since chocolate cake.
But now those eyes see straight through me.
And even though I straighten up
dust off the wear and tear
cover up the unsightly fear, anger, sadness.
I get the feeling that somehow I no longer measure up.
And there is no more left of me
No more singing in the middle of the living room.
No more dancing like a soul train fool.
No more talking about nothing.
No more.
Can I just have five minutes, please?

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