We Don’t Complain Easily

June 25, 2015

Don’t we look so pretty

With this bag on my head

And a cane in your hand

We don’t complain easily

I never got used to the taste of plastic in my mouth. I’ve always preferred metal. It shows commitment. The bokeh of broken always shines with more meaning when it has the jagged glint of silver poking out from the blood pool.

Well loved and worn well. 

The synapse of this train (of thought) runs precocious

Wheels wild and at a discontent of the destination

Worn love and well, well….      *sigh*……

That little row boat in Binic. Well loved and worn well. Wearing the faded blue of Bretagne bravado. Swimming on splintered legs. Knowing itself to be too small to take on the ocean but not afraid to stay in the water.

I am not religious but if I were, I could hear myself proclaiming that we are all going to hell. We are ugly creatures, only saved and graciously prolonged by a fiery few. The ones that bend and break while we bear weak witness. We bare them failed hands in hopes that it is enough to grant us forgiveness for our inability.

Don’t we look so pretty

With these grave robbed bones

And lips swollen with the blush of violence

We don’t speak loudly

Because there is nothing to hear in this hierarchy of mute mouths and sloppy sentiments. When red lipstick is less than enticing and the wrinkles worn by our promises are so sadly transparent. I stand in shudder and shakes knowing that I have lost yet another love of my life. Not by choice or want nor blacked out rage but by the calm that I thought she needed from me.

Don’t I look so pretty,

When I don’t complain so easily,

Well loved and worn well,

With nothing left but the end of you

  1. Sybil Ortego says:

    This is very nice. Like it a lot!!!

  2. Theresa says:

    Beautiful work! Wisely written, fierce photos, and that tigress lady seems pretty cool. 😉

Leave a Reply