I wish you hadn’t wrestled twelve gauge-dynamite-death stick in my mouth from my hands
You’d have made a beautiful powder burn-black dress-sobbing mess-bride
For our final dance
Even though without a head a car wash-pay pal-charity case-cremation-farewell
Won’t come cheap
But I’ve always known you’d have two girls-summer curls-flower dress-daughters
To carry me
Don’t let them grow to be
street queen-needle feind-sleazy scene-cover girls
Naked in magazines
Don’t forget to not remember me, or the years of hurt I caused since you were sixteen, the Sailor Moon-High School Rich-"if you like it or not"-abandoned angel– swimmer tan and lean not yet jaded by me, girl of my dreams
I could’ve been, should’ve been
A garbage bag, spatula clean-up, shower drain Autopsy!
I could’ve been, should’ve been
A bright flash, loud bang, “no surgeon needed”
Obituary!
I could’ve been, should’ve been
A rental van, empty church, coffee-can
Eulogy!
Another anonymous fitting end to a story mistaken as a selfish man, “what a waste,”
Tragedy!
It wouldn’t have taken long for you to find another to fill my pants, to give you a son, and our girls a brother, you’ll need to love a Bad boy-smart voice– tattooed –tender heart-loves to laugh-jackass
With a gentle touch and rough hands.
OH SHIT! That was supposed TO BE ME!
Fuckin’ C’est la Vie
~Written by: J.A. Lütz
Copyright: 9/1/2013