Tonight, at someparty somewhere with somepeople, we rested
in eachother's gaze and sifted. Parts of me were at the surface that I had never seen
and I hoped that I saw those in you, but you can never be sure.
But tonight the wind tells me to imagine things I never have.
I foolishly asked people on the perimeter what they saw, Expecting a looking glass
into things I hadn't seen, thinks I hadn't thought. Where were you when I was broken
into shards at your feet--are you lost? You and me: an endless shoreline.
Tonights hopes have many folds, and I look for them in the curves of you.
Somehow everything I write
Turns into an ode to you. Pathetic things I wish you'd read and see me on the pages.
and it's silly because they're silly and we're silly
And tonight becomea a series of sighs from twisted lances.
I have some Facts: When you leave a room, I want to follow. Desperately, fervently.
I count seconds on branches and streetlights to the appropriate time
without you feeling crowded. And this too, is sick. We know.
Tonight taunts me. I am cold amongst a flame, drained of what you needed.
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