Bambi

When they ask me of my favorite art piece,
I sulk but smile and boast of my failures instead.
I do anything to create a detour to wrap up the conversation
‘What’s the most expensive art piece in your collection?’
I don’t like this question either
It’s nostalgic;
Leaves me empty inside just to be specific,
That I gave my heart to her only to have her on a piece of paper is already depressing
though she is my 8th wonder of the world.
There should be contemporary documents on her beauty,
believe me for my eyes cannot pass as cons
I’d have her replace Abraham Lincoln on the hundred dollar bill
Anyway, that’s only a lucid illusion.
Her potrait graces my wall
Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa is no match for my Bambi
I bet she’d have the Medici’s break their bank just to get her
I have guests fall in love at her marvel
Spell bound by her eyes and I don’t like it,
Spoiler alert!  I took it down
Reason one, I’m the jealous type
And two, lest one of my itchy-fingered friends should steal it.
They could’ve easened the burden of getting rid of it
which I’ve countlessly tried unsuccessfully though.
You see back then I was a boy drunken in love…

Yes, back then I was a boy drunken in love,
Results – a matyr of a religion called love.
I cling to her potrait hoping it to be a vine to save me
I cling to her potrait hoping I could use it as leverage to claim my heart back,
Maybe playing the joker will help reclaim my lost
She acted Peter, denying my association with her
That she not know of herself as Mary of Magdalena
True, the worst monsters are ones which we create
I’d long waited for the villain to become the hero of the story
To defeat this evil once and for all
I became exactly what I willed never to become,
In my streets we call them fuckboys, stray dogs with no dignity.
I’ve tried so hard to get rid of her
I burnt all my collection of her, a sin which I dare not ask for forgiveness
I once gave away a T-shirt to my friend who turned it into a face towel, I took it back for fear he’d turn it into a cumrag
Her face was imprinted on it.
Science failed me,
Drinking didn’t aid with memory loss
I try to forget but in vain
’cause deep down I know I’d burn myself just for her to see light
I remember her birthday like July 4th
Hers is 2 days later to be exact :
Somebody tell her Happy Birthday Bambi,
How I remember that date I don’t know
Maybe my plan of burning bridges and ships was a fools errand after all
Her potrait is like an only floating wooden plank of a shipwreck, and I surviving to see the aftermath of our storm
A ‘move on’ plan botched by my own unwillingness to let go
My incapability to love another
I hate myself enough but I hate her because I still love her
She claims her phone was jinxed and I blame google contacts restoration program for linking us again
What karma has in-store for us,
I want none of its fuckery, seriously! Again???
The Bambi wall hanging is the first and only remaining
A relic of drunken love.

~Misfit ~