When the night fades to light,
You hope that the blood dries itself up,
And cleans itself up off the sheets of your sad bed.
And you hope the salty tears stop
Flowing down your flushed face.
And that your body heals the way it should,
And your mind is a much of a fresh canvas as the newly dawning day.
But that will never happen.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 5:04 PM UTC
When the night fades to light,
You hope that the blood dries itself up,
And cleans itself up off the sheets of your sad bed.
And you hope the salty tears stop
Flowing down your flushed face.
And that your body heals the way it should,
And your mind is a much of a fresh canvas as the newly dawning day.
But that will never happen.
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