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I let myself add you to my dreams
absentmindedly, burning is the tea in my hands
and I'm shaking, movements welcome in taking all
I had left
...suppposed to be you...
It's a jumble. My thoughts. I jot down, pray
they make more sense than I feel, instead of this
stupendusly surreal nothing. Words fill me up
as much as hope. Whatever that means anymore.
Anyway, Here Goes
at who we use, fuse the lies
with which we bruise ourselves over, that sad
mix I made for you seasons ago, and I find
I still can't do this. Result:
Approaching "the quick fix"...
I'll believe it. Tempting in
warmth, lying but with you, not at you
(It's not a myth, kid. It feels good; but
try it.) For me, it's simply...
Two seconds, no, five minutes,
no, three years of a way to
crawl back and stay in your arms
In anyone's anything.
And I don't blame
little me in that big
position, not fit for a big heart and
old soul without a way to say no
to your hands.
I trusted them, every piece of you
What a bust considering the numbers
you ran away with,
all the momentary bits of my
love add up, you know. Pretty soon there was nothing
left for myself. And you didn't even
You asked and begged and brought
me out and made out like there was no tomorrow,
but there was back then. "Let's just borrow
her heart for a while, her body
to fill the naughty feelings and stealings
that no one else would notice. She's glued
to your eyes, dude,
you got her."
(You knew I wouldn't bother
your intensions. You held me so tight I wasn't
To leave this
semi-perminant mark, my first, take away soo much
and consume such a bunch of me
even after you're gone. And I'll tell you right now,
you were wrong.
My lips move to say "I'll miss you" but you turn
away, delerious from all your new
good things, too seriously true for
these eyes of mine. You gave me your
peace and took it away in the blink
of an eye. I never needed it until you
needed something from me.
My wishes for you feed
only your ego, I wanted to help but
you're perfectly symetrical without me.
I doubt me. Of course.
I want to shout
its not fair, but yet I'm
too painfully aware of what others go through,
show through, and I can't. Everyone has their own animosity
and shrugging and yelling, asking why.
Who am I to deny
anyone happiness, to take it for
Even if I wanted to,
that was your job.