Messy Hair and Thirsty Hearts

The kind of girl with messy hair,
The one with a yellow pad and a pen.
She’s just wearing a big baseball jersey shirt
worn-out washed pants, rolled-up at the ends.

A coffee on her table,
Looking out the window through her glasses.
She seemed unnoticed,
Yet felt like she has been collected.

The next song made her smile,
Dancing in the lyrical harmony you, too, enjoyed.
Then she stopped with her dreams,
As the door opens, ringing wind chimes.

A little boy came up to her,
Hugging her like she’s one of his own.
A little boy kissed her cheek and said
“Mom, let’s have waffles.”

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Or Are We Dancers?

Somewhere outside the line,
You spilled the coffee onto a lady’s skirt
Somewhere outside the line,
I spilled the tea onto a man’s book.

Things we thought fell into places,
Thinking the best things in life happen by just accidents
Things we thought would go on smoothly
Thinking our own lobsters finally found us.

Apparently, they weren’t our own Romeo nor Juliet.
I, for one, found myself restless.
We hid ourselves in those sheets that once with them
You, for one, found yourself clueless.

Somewhere outside the line,
No coffee nor tea was spilled.
Somewhere outside the line,
Nothing clumsiness happened at all.

Somewhere outside the line,
A coincidence came out of an accident.
Somewhere outside the line,
Lobster breathe into the beginnings.

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