across the table

April 26, 2011 § 1 Comment

i am as water

mosquitos cling to the walls and nothing can escape their sound

while you write a letter to someone who isnt me but is worth (to you) to write a letter to

i stand up to escape

you reach out your hand to me, saying, stay, because sleeping alone is living the hard way

you and me dont need an organ that pumps blood and time,

but nicotine and cheap red wine

your important words slip away

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