Skin Deep

I am standing beside the door greeting guests,
And so god-damn thirsty,
Dousing fire with whiskey and ice when
She walks in, smelling like crushed petals and Italian wine,
And a name I don't remember
But her dress lingers on and on like crisp white sails,
The only thing I can think about is maybe
She'll dance with me but the bathroom mirror
Is an honest friend, speaks the truth of my condition,
So I spend the night talking to a car
And everyone else.

Poetry by Charlie fan
Read 493 times
Written on 2006-11-01 at 00:10

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Ehum..sorry..a little bit too tired to spell right:) *nightnight*

Me keep an hounest touch of stupid containing of oneself. I do recognize it very well.. Why don't we dare taking a step into the unknowned? And the cliche: "we have nothingto loose!" But actually it's a cliche of truth.

A lovely selfirony is spread out over this white paper. Love the to last two lines.