Dilly Boy and I were going to have a Jewish ceremony
When we got married
(Well we were just going to call it Jewish)
We were going to have plastic flowers,
And give everyone crayons to color on the walls.
We were going to take photos with real smiles and laughs in them.
We were going to have plastic dime store rings. We would keep them forever.
And spaghetti. He doesn’t like spaghetti. But we said, what the hell, why not?
That’s what I told mother.
She said “Are either of you Jewish?”
There she goes breaking dreams again.
I wouldn’t have invited her anyway.

Throwing sarcastic remarks and fans just tends to happen when I’m around my family.
It comes natural.
Like waking up at 11:11 to make another pointless wish,
Or starting to miss him long before he leaves me.
It’s a sickening feeling when hopes begin to fade,
And you’ve lost everything that you’ve worked so hard to make.
Read between the lines…
It might be worth a look.

I play with fire.
Watch me baby, go up in flames.
I will be your never girl. Your pretty (voiceless) poison girl.
And well, Daddy’s a drunk. And mother can’t look him in the eyes.
The Teen Titans Theme Song gets all stuck in my head.
Tickle fights at three AM, and I know he’s only up this late
To distract me…
And at 4:30 we are giggling and having a water fight, we’ve forgotten
That my world has, right before my eyes
Imploded.
And I fell on my ass LAUGHING because she said something smart.
I’ll never live it down.

And he whispered “These are the days of our lives.”
And I only wished that they were…