In My Pink High Heels

There's no smoke without a fire. Baby, baby your a liar

7 months ago, I had my life planned out, the wedding dress, the house at Bologoda lake, the savings plan and the perfect man. Now as I fish around my pockets to buy my 12th smoke for the day and wait at office after six because I'm afraid of going home to sanity, I wonder if I was ever happy being you and me.

You, in your perfection were so completely wrong for me. But the yet I'm afraid if you leave the little sanity I have left will never know me.

The boys I've kissed, the nights I've lain on a beach drunk, the parties I've stumbled through, the drugs, the money, the girls, the soiled clothes. They look OK in the morning because I have you to come home to.

But yet you belong somewhere safe, somewhere far away from my insanity and pretence, you belong with her. with her and her biriyani and covered face.

You belong with someone who will hold your hand instead of a cigarette, someone who will answer your call instead of kiss a married man in the dark, someone who will be coherent when you talk to them about your plans for the future, someone to come home to.

I don't deserve you but please baby, stay.
Just a little while longer.

posted by pINKhIGHhEELS @ 5:16 AM