This constant presence of you.
It's been a year or more.
You've seen the ugly bits,
The confused frayed edges.
All my lies and hedges,
a time to sit and ponder
On whispers of who I am to people.
Your sweet **** my sweet heart.
That old whickering tremble
How did I get this lucky?
Bundled up in sweet cliches
Characters of my inner dialogue come to life
May I return to being an individual?
Once I find where I buried my Trust.
All the games and masks?
To conduct a minefield exposition.
My thoughts are so clean and linear
with you, I'm afraid you're synthetic.
A dog bites, it's tail
No one loves a lurker.
There'll come a time
when you'll have to stop hiding,
lay down your mask,
and come face me.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 7:37 AM UTC
This constant presence of you.
It's been a year or more.
You've seen the ugly bits,
The confused frayed edges.
All my lies and hedges,
a time to sit and ponder
On whispers of who I am to people.
Your sweet **** my sweet heart.
That old whickering tremble
How did I get this lucky?
Bundled up in sweet cliches
Characters of my inner dialogue come to life
May I return to being an individual?
Once I find where I buried my Trust.
All the games and masks?
To conduct a minefield exposition.
My thoughts are so clean and linear
with you, I'm afraid you're synthetic.
A dog bites, it's tail
No one loves a lurker.
There'll come a time
when you'll have to stop hiding,
lay down your mask,
and come face me.
© Atalanta Undigested 2013. All Rights Reserved.
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