If my body were slim and built
with firm breasts and curvy hips,
you would stay home with me
exploring my skin in bed.
If my tears were bitter alcohol,
maybe you'd leave your damn bottle of Jack behind
and taste my bitter sweet sorrow
or drink the nectar I have to offer.
Could my sighs be the leaves
you inhale through your lips,
you would take my breath away
and smoke the particles of my existence.
If the fragrance of my neck and inner thighs were grainy,
perhaps your nostrils would not be infected
by the numbing white powder of dissapointment
and aspirin residue.
If my voice had a melodic tune,
maybe you would dance to the passionate words I once told you.
Could my skin be peeled off,
I'd sew it into a leopard skin quilt
and cover you during trembling nights
of cold loneliness or fright.
Could my debts turn into dollar bills,
perhaps you would fly me to the moon
or sail to the shores of perfection.
If I only had the power to become a goddess
with a smile so enticing,
you would change for me,
but all I have is what you see.
Ifs and coulds shall linger in my mind
for you're more in love with Jack than you are with me
and could the seas be split in two,
you'd run off to the other side
intoxicating whatever is left untouched
and I'll always be left behind.