But I forget 23 like I forget 17
And I forget my first love, like you forget a day dream
And what of all my wild friends, and the times I’ve had with them
But I’ll fade to grey soon on the tv station
If I ever feel better
Remind me to spend some good time with you
You can give me your number
When it’s all over I’ll let you know
I tried to play cool
But instead I was playing myself
What you gotta know about me
Is that I’m dying in this lonely hell
And I don’t wanna be without you
Cause I can hardly breathe without you
This is what it feels to be the one
Who’s standin’ left behind
How did I become the wrong side of the love song?
I can put up with a hundred one night stands,
But I can’t bear the sight
Of you holding the hand
Of another woman
There are souls hanging on telephone wires in the hood from calls that were not made quick enough to warn black boys from walking down the wrong block where the chambers in firearms were cocked. And the sounds of singing sirens signaled that another cardiac clock had stopped. Sorrow has borrowed the attention of our ears. We mourn in forced stillness. For his time is…up. In rafters. An elevated, nameless, tombstone that glows from light poles. I fear what the night shows and yet find faith in the darkness behind the pulled curtains covering my pupils as my eyes close. To pray for the drug dealers and prostitutes who obey those hovering codes. In hopes that they will find shoes that will help them walk to find truth…
Suzana & Suzane Massena, Vogue Brazil February 2013.
Loving all the colors!
“ Because I know doing dishes fills you with some kind of inhuman rage, and though it’s not my favorite thing in the world, it doesn’t drive me to suicide — I’ll do the dishes. I’ll put some music on and do the entire sink. I’ll even even go back to finish the pans after I let them soak, universally recognized as the truest sign of dishwashing dedication. ”
We’re great together. Now. But who knows what’ll happen in the future? Soon we will be in different states, doing different things, meeting different people, and that’s great. I like where we are. I like what we are, or better said, what we are not. I thought I wanted more, and that you wanted less, but we are on the same page. Same paragraph, same sentence, same word. Well, maybe I’m a few sentences ahead sometimes, but close enough. I’m going to continue missing you more than I should and wishing you were with me when you are not. In the end, like everything else in life, we’ll see what happens. And whatever does happen, I got mad love for you, boo.