i cannot be your holiday..
i cannot be just a box on your piece of paper hidden and forgotten under black sharpie, under a line so bold..
i cannot be your new years in new york city
because my heart is not cold enough
i cannot be your martin luther king jr day because i am not a dream you had.. no..i am just a nightmare you woke up from with sweat drenched sheets in your grasp, with the name of a god you don’t even believe in in your gasp of air..
i cannot be your rosa parks day because i couldn’t even sit down for you let alone stand.. even when I’m in the right place, it was never right enough for you.
i cannot be your valentines day because I’m not old school.. i don’t walk around with a bow and arrow, just a gun so don’t make me aim it at your heart because ill shoot, and knowing me ill miss and you’ll be missing the finger you would’ve loved to use to show your extreme levels of frustration..
I can’t be your saint patricks day because getting in my pants wasn’t considered luck to you.. and I’m not irish so i didn’t even get a pity kiss..
I cannot be your cinco de mayo because you cannot even list five reasons on your fingers as to why you think you may love me..
i cannot be your independence day because the last four times you asked me to be explosive i took it too literally and burned off your eyebrows and put a hole in your favorite dress shoes..
i cannot be your labor day because you and i just didn’t work out..
i cannot be your halloween because i didn’t let you treat me right.. i thought it was a trick.. i thought you were wearing a mask even though you were the same you with the same burnt sugar brown eyes after the clock struck 12 and the calendar said November..
I cannot be your thanksgiving because i tracked dirt on everything you could ever hold sacrilegiously sacred in this life and i did it on accident but nobody cares.. nobody thanks anybody for mistakes..
i cannot be your Christmas Eve, or your christmas because i can’t bake cookies, wrap presents, or keep a secret. I’m also lactose intolerant so i had to leave orange juice out for santa and you don’t even like orange juice.
i cannot be your birthday either, because truth be told, i forgot when it was.
i cannot be a date on a page.. i can, however, be one at the opposite side of a dark brown table with a white tablecloth and candle in the center..