I'll never see you,
And I think I know how the sun must feel about the moon

You live on in my head,
Like a tumor I cannot excise.
Or refuse to.
I can't tell anymore.

Funny how nobody ever truly leaves,
They become ghosts,
Animated by regret, goodwill, love, jealousy, pettiness
Muffled by distractions, dates, girlfriends, ***.

Please, just let me be.

We run from the rain,
Take shelter beneath buildings
And flimsy umbrellas
Afraid to get wet
As if the rain might wash that which is us
Down the street drains,
More sewage to be chemically treated
Before we pump it through the pipes
To shower over our heads
Safe this time as it is controlled by man
Nature's tears confined,
Man's nature defined.

i'm holding your breath
so you won't leave me
and i see you slowly suffocating 
i'm too selfish to let go
so instead i suffer with you
i feel your lungs straining
and i ask you to take me in
like i'm the last drag
of your last cigarette 
let me fill your collapsing lungs
the ones that are crumbling into each other
the way we did
i was always your nicotine
and you always knew 
i'd be the end of you
but you couldn't quit me
i always knew
this would end
i'm an addiction out of style
we always knew
we would consume each other
in the worst of ways
so i'll tear you apart
from the inside out
we've always known 
that the smoke in your lungs
has my name on it
i've become a disease
i guess that makes me cancer
or at least 
something just as vile
just as ruthless 
just as deadly
just as selfish 
at least you'll remember me
i guess that all describes me
and i guess the smoke 
describes you too
and it describes us
how we drifted into each other
stealing parts of one another
and setting off again
losing ourselves
but gaining new parts
and maybe the point
is losing yourself in another 
but if we're the smoke
then we're the cancer
we're just as vile
just as ruthless 
just as deadly
just as selfish

[holyoak]

Sitting along the highway, all alone
I spied a well-worn, beat-up
brown leather shoe.

Pondering its journey,
I questioned whether it, too
mated for life,
as geese tend to do.

What happened to its Other Half--
Could it be far away?
Or did the two shoes have a spat
And decide they should part ways?

...or maybe there's a foot somewhere
Looking for its shoe--
or could Cinderella still be waiting
for her Charming Dream Come True?

I wish I knew the story of this
lonely leather sole;
I hope it finds its way back home
so it won't be alone.