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She left with a crying kiss, and the evidence couldn't be more unclear.
Save me save me, I can help myself
Save me save me, I can help myself

But what if I’m waiting,
What if I’m not sleeping without that tear stained sweater
She left with a crying kiss, and the smell of it, shades of her perfume,

Surround me with every tear that rolls across my pillow
And I hope you know, hope you know
She left with a crying kiss, at the least I wish for one more.
one of the few poems I wrote about a personal experience, which ironically the scenario that inspired it happened twice almost identically, both times with someone I truly love.
Keep telling me that, you didn't need to too
But it's those dreams that you fake
And that life that you dream
That keeps me away

Cause honey your golden
But trust me I know
That I’m only the silver
Lining your chains

But we can be broken and forged to ourselves,
The beauty of love, the strength of diamond
Is unknown until proved
And all my dreams they're useless,
Unreachable,
Utterly inconceivable,
And simply, out of my reach
But I won't let them die,
Because without a dream your living a nightmare.
Take the time, to rewind the signs of catastrophe
this apathy has a hold on me, and it's so hard to see
your side, is always greener always cleaner
but that's just comparatively,
is it relatively real?

Your eyes, can't hold your lies
but as you watch, the tide sweep away my mind
this apathy has a hold on me, and it's so hard to see
but you can't compete with empty sheets.

So why
why would I try,
just to place myself at the bottom of a rhyme
old song lyrics I wrote, may be worked into a song at some point!
They pound and pound
But I have not touched the ground
These wars will not end
And I will not pretend
But time and time again
I turn to you my friends
  Mar 2015 David T Carratola
bones
she leaves
everything
on a page,
all her sorrow,
her love
and her rage,
and I truly believe
she will write
herself free
of the jailers
who fastened
her cage.
(can't-sleep-remix)
she lives
inside out
on the page

in secret
but one of  
these days

I truly believe
her words
will be keys

that pull back
the bolts
of her cage.
I am haunting the past,
my own,
and the others
who cast me aside.

Pearl after pearls before the swine found
back in the backyards of the backyard of time.
I am haunting the past.

The constant in me and at last or
somewhere near there
I share what remains,
the bain or the bane of my youth?
the pain of the truth that
stains the sidewalks with blood.

I am haunting the past and
I'm good at it.
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