07 November 2009

7 year itch

I wanted to hear you say it,

And you had already told me in
so many ways
Even though you were too weak to
open your mouth.

I have to squint to see the man you once were
to me.

What are you holding on to anyway?

I would assume your arms are growing tired of
holding me at
arm's length.

Let go of my hand,
it's no longer your own,

And when you close your eyes now,
you'll have to dream alone.

Release the space between us
like a black dove that will not

It will all work out in the end, they say,
it will all work out
in the end.

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