Our lives are all 
Like a jukebox 
Bits and pieces of us 
In every song. 

We fall in love and think 
It's a Heavenly match 
And we often overlook 
"That tiny scratch" 

Because we're stuck like 
A needle on a record: 

We feel so good… 
We feel so good 
We feel so good… 
We feel so… 
NICE. 

New relationships begin by 
Singing terms of endearment 
But the verses all change 
When we start to feel pain. 

We all think we've found 
Such a perfect match 
Until we finally notice 
"That deep scratch" 

The needle jumps and skips 
All over the record: 

And we are c… 
And we are cold 
And we are cold… 
And we are...
ICE. 

©Soulstar2000 


Previous Poem
Return To Author's Index
Next Poem

Graphics by:
Woman Image by Tom Sierak


Home
 Site Map
©Creative-Women.com