Intre minciuni luminoase
Si cuvinte frumoase
Nu e decat cenusa
Ascunsa sub usa
Si praf de matusa.
Fara noroc si fara joc,
Fara iubire deloc,
Lucrurile s-au dus rapid in jos.
Nimic nu mai e frumos
Si nici spectaculos.
E simplu sa pretinzi
Ca e asa cum te prezinti.
Dar nimeni nu-ti va spune ca gresesti
Cand vorbele nu-ti ies si nu reusesti
Sa ma convingi ca ma iubesti.
Dear Marcus,
Sorry to be so blunt and leave you at the party like that, but you have to understand that my life, my party, my rules. So, even if I still think highly of you (no, I don’t) and even if my mom likes you (no, she doesn’t), I have to tell you the bitter truth.
Our relationship was fun and carefree for a moment there, but it lasted way too many hours and it had way too much drama for it to be fun anymore.
You were always gone, be it in Egypt, or Denmark, or wherever, so I stopped caring in little while.
When you were at home, you did nothing, you fucking piece of slobby ass. You just paraded me like a horse in front of your 40-year old friends with wrecked marriages and bald spots to spare.
I guess I took our relationship for granted, because, since you were never home, you could never perturb my habits. But you did! You did, with your nosy character and your closed little mind, so you were always checking up on me and you were a constant pain in my ass, despite your long leave of absence.
So I stopped caring. Who cares? And because I stopped caring for you, I started caring for someone else.
Sometimes I wondered if it was ok from my part to be such a dick, but then again, the dick was you and you weren’t a particular good dick at all. So I continued my dick moves, because they made me feel better.
This whole situation, corroborated with your absence, made me feel young again. I was taking chances, and I was having fun, and I was in a happy place. Everything was new and thrilling and enticing, so why the heck would I stop?
Just because of your sorry ass? No thank you, my perfectly good ass requires attention and spunk from time to time. Both of which you were unwilling to provide.
So yeah. This is my letter. This is my confession. I started cheating on you, but is it still cheating if it’s over?
Because our relationship was over before it started, and my new relationship with the new and improved me has so much more to offer than your boring presence.
I left you, Marcus. I left you for me and believe me – it was all your fault.
Forever mine,
Jane
Ma bucur sa vad c-am discutat fara rost.
Sincer, nu stiu care din noi e mai prost
Si care mai crede vreo vorba din noi.
„Prosti” se numeste atunci cand e doi.
Discutii in sir si un sir de minciuni
Legate cu funde de promisiuni
Sunt multe la numar si fara zabava,
Dar cine mai crede in asta izbava?
Hai sa le spunem azi bun ramas,
Cu zambet pe fata si fericire in glas.
Caci cine mai crede doar in cuvinte
E clar ca in creier nu are minte.
I killed a few,
Remembered many,
Instead of time,
I had a penny,
And yet I found
That words can’t heal
The wounds so deep
Within the skin I peel.
I fought you all,
But lost so little,
Inside my gut
I’m all but brittle.
Forget me not,
Spoken out loud,
Forgive me still,
Give me my cloud.
My boyfriend bought a ring for someone else.
He asked me once, but didn’t bring the bells.
Oh well, I guess we’ll never know.
My boyfriend married once this chick,
She was a horse, her thighs were thick,
But hey, at least she’s useful in the snow!
My boyfriend told me once that he’s in love with me,
And boy, these words made me so happy!
Unless I think of all the time I wasted
There was so much chocolate I could’ve tasted.
those stories we tell
until we bleed
from all of the smell
the sorrows beneath
are hiding inside
those bodies of mine
are nothing to fear
and nothing to hide
beside my own star.
oh, it is so far!
my legs are all worn,
my insides are torn
from all of those feelings
inside of the ceilings
that hide my true form
inside of the storm
that lives in your body.
oh, no, you’re not a nobody.
the cries and the deeps
inside of the steeps
make me forget
the day and the step.
but life’s just a dream,
my blood is a stream
of happy and joy,
of tool and of toy,
of smiling nobody
on top of my body.
my tongue likes to like your world whole.
you beautiful, arrogant, selfish asshole.
These steps I’m stepping,
These breaths I’m breathing,
My heart keeps breaking,
I keep crashing.
These words I’m mouthing,
These kisses I’m not kissing,
I keep forgetting
The notions I’m expecting.
These trials of mine
Are drowning in the wine
I forgot to drink last night.
I might as well have my last fight.