My soapbox is made of balsa wood
my pedestal's a rental
the megaphone don't work worth a shit
and my hesitation is all mental
I look at you
apprehension pulling so true
got a small window to run through
I love you.
Wish I could have bit back
as soon as it came out
like a word written in erasable ink
it cannot be rubbed out
I search for some kind of clue
desire pulling me into you
heat and impulse dragging me through
I want you
Next morning staring at the ceiling
devoid of the lust, empty of feeling
wondering what just happened here
while you sleep, i feel your breath on my ear.
I'm looking for a reason for what I did
irritation pulling me toward the door
anger and confusion offering more
I left you
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