give me time
because i need it
my fingers are bruised and my ribs are sore
my veins are dim and old
imprints left on my face from laying
on that burgundy mess
the flowers in your hair refuse to speak
i don't know how much longer i can look
at your waiting face

I'm more attractive in the form of a letter. There's no stuttering and no 'uh' in the place of 'I love you', only ink spills that can be disguised as abstract mistakes, but beautiful nonetheless. Maybe you were too afraid to make the drive and tell me to my needy and confused face or maybe you just didn't want to smell the orange juice and Marlboro's on my breath when you get to the point and all I do is stare blankly at you with my mouth open.

my thoughts sometimes keep me up until 2 in the morning.
selfish things can't let me go quite as easy as you did.