I wrote this little song

I hope you want to listen
before I get it wrong
this typewritten song
banged out by me.

The melody is pretty
I promise, because you are
and I know you like
pretty things.

The notes are dark and low like
your raven hair and how it
trails down
where I like to take hold.

At times my voice, soft and unsure
escalates into a screech
like a peace protest
turning into war.

When you find out
I cry all the time
and I have bad breath:

you will turn around
and I’ll be on my own
not knowing how to obliterate
the image of you
from my mind.

I might write another song
in between gulps of beer and stale
kisses from strange men because
I do that when I’m sad.

And the television set
in my chest will emanate
a frosty glow.

Playing repeats of loveless scenes
playing repeats of