Thursday, March 22, 2012

I wish that I could stop
comparing to you.
But every time I do
it seems I'm through being me
and I don't want to disagree on this one
I feel the world as it-- slips away.

One thousand one goals
fill up the glass
overturned on tables
as strangers pass going nowhere
real real fast to leave me here on my knees.
And I can't find the words to say -- please.

Last night I baked bread
with your soy sauce
offering to being unlost
But you just slipped past with my tears.
the last thing he remembers is my fears, dear,
And I don't have the pride to call you-- back.

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