Bellasartweird - The Pink Poet

Pink Reminders by Isabella

He's in his room with the lights low

Playing the same tunes from ‘17 

There isn't a thing you could do without a trace of me 

No, not a thought to be had that isn't about me

The 22nd rolls around 

And you can see my face 

Black earmuffs, a kiss you can't erase 

And you're always gonna miss me on the 17th

But do you hear me when you listen to that blondie sing? 

Or do you fascinate yourself with fantasies of me with rings? 

‘Cause you knew me, but you know now

That a strawberry means me

And pink is all over your feed

And what a pretty fella 

She was just like Cinderella 

Skirts and pretty hightops 

I tied your heart in a knot 

I remember everything 

That's how I know you do too

And you can never escape 

What it does to your brain 

When you see the color pink 

‘Cause you got so sore from all my metaphors

That when you see pink, I bet it floods your memory 

And when you see fashions of strawberry, 

I know very well you think of me

Well to you is that a tragedy? 

Because I'm drowning in gold revelry 

And you'll just take back what you did to me 

You could write a 22,000 word apology 

But you're always gonna miss me on the 17th

And you're gonna see me in your twin sized bed

But will you ever get me out of your red head?

Or do you lie awake thinking what'd it be like to call me your own?

The 22nd rolls around

And you can see my face, 

I'm like a picture you couldn't elaborate 

Or like a poem you couldn't write

‘Cause when you see pink, 

You're gonna think of me

All the drawings I gave back to you

All the letters I wrote in cursive vain 

And you're always gonna feel so much pain

‘Cause there isn’t a melody you could play

Or a photo you could delete

Or a poem you could write 

That isn't about me 

it would still have traces of my similes

I'm sure that we're not gonna make amends

The only problem is the things I've said, 

But there are posts still up on Instagram 

You can't deny our very existence 

And you won't forget me

I'm like a little knick on the wall

Or like a reminder of a long ago fall

He's in his room with the glory

But I've got the better story 

I won't make the metaphorical essence boring

And he'll just have to fantasize every morning

The Birth of Venus

“All of the things that I thought were so easy Just got harder and harder each day December is darkest and June there’s the light”

— Calendar Girl, Stars

“It’s nothing but time and a face that you lose I chose to feel it and you couldn’t choose”

— your ex-lover is dead, by stars