I knew from the start
You're the wrong path to tread
But your sweet music
Fogged up, filled up my head
Now your cheeks are chapp'd, hot
Chased by words raw and cold
But the barbs that you blast
At my frame barely hold
'Cause they sound too damn old
They flap and they fold
This story's been told.
Feelings grow staler
Than air in our sheets
Thick with the dry, bitter
Taste of defeat
Fondness fades like
Your little black dress
Minute flecks of life
In a dull gray mess
Shells of ourselves
Overflow in a box
Where your love was kept
Under heaviest lock
Now I pick up my dignity
Slip hand through sleeve
And I start to leave
But it's tattered and worn
And the earth's under leaves
There's wind in the eaves
It's too cold to leave
Please, don't let me leave.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
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