Connected via phone line,
I used to hear you.
Mumbling,
Whispering,
Falling asleep.

Now you’re gone.

Didn’t think it was anything,
I mean who needs to be on the phone to sleep?

Me

Stupid cliche, means nothing.
Means everything

When I kiss you,
I get it.

I don't know why,
but when I'm high
I can't help my
urges to try
and find you.

You rubbed me in dirt;
I falsely assert
that it didn't hurt.
I still wear your shirt.
I miss you.

I don't know why,
I have tears in my eyes.
now that i'm high,
I think that I
may have loved you.

I stand at the shore of an ocean
vast, uncrossable waters
between me and my salvation
I could swim, but for how long?

how long before my limbs give out
my lungs searing in my chest
metal in my throat
salt in my mouth

so I stay on the shore
(metal in my throat
salt in my mouth)
feet on the ground

I'm not into sappy
love songs or online
requests to be mine
but you make me happy.

I will be leaving
and so will you
(unfortunate, but true).
We'll both be grieving.

I hope you see
that cubism dreams
will tear at the seams.
Just don't forget me.