Michael Biondi (01-05-90 / rochester ny)
Writing From The Wrong Side
Today i stepped down from my bed,
right on the wrong side...
My feet met with bitter blades of carpet
and the window just wouldnt stop crying;
my ears rang as the tears sang
and i made my way to a rainy beach.
Miss Atlantic seemed so down,
she wore a long face and a low tide
as if she wanted space or love just died;
but Its all the same now a days, aint it?
Its like that time when a girl says
'i think we need to take a break'
and you look her back in the eyes and say
'no, your making a big mistake'
Because everything must soon end,
if your willing to pause for this long.
'this is goodbye forever darling...'
I spent the day traveling the unknown
areas of these unknown hotels
located in the unknown parts of this coast
but i knew everything about love
...at that moment.
I saw broken marriages trying to
hold themselves together by the thin
strings of their pretty daughters fingertips.
But in the eyes of these pretty daughters
lived the eyes of their beautiful mothers,
those same eyes that once broke
a mans heart and they will do it again dammit,
when this little girl grows up.
The father looks at me and tells me
a million lessons about life in one silent stare.
But i left that hotel just as young
and foolish as when i walked in.
I was tipsy, talking about talking with an older woman
because let me tell you, they were all perfect.
And I will never be perfect because i dont want to be
and I dont want to meet miss perfect
i just want to see if this life could go on with love.
So love, lets be our own version of perfect,
we can swing our daughter by her little hands
by our side...1...2...3...
look, theres love again...
right there, swinging at our sides.
I'ts in front of us, its at our backs
and its in these raindrops or in these sunny days
that didnt happen to shine today.
Its in the sadness of the waves
or in the happiness of when they turn into the sand.
I'ts in the eyes of the daughter we havent had yet.
I'ts in our lips and in our beating hearts
its in this yet to kiss and never starts...
its even on this wrong side of the bed
that i decided to write on today.
Comments about this poem (Writing From The Wrong Side by Michael Biondi )
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