A glass of water, twenty sit ups
I like the way you eye me like candy
yet avoid me like a time bomb
five minutes until detonation
six minutes to figure out what to say when I am near you
A walk around the neighborhood, one house with it's lights on
Some people say “I love you”
You say “Go to sleep”
they mean the same thing
but I'm not tired
A crooked chin, thirty minutes late
You only talk to empty chairs and darkness
You only love things from 1978
I could be your ghost
if you want me to
A tear stained face, two parents who don't care
“It gets a little lonely, pretending to want to be alone”
I only get up early on days you say you'll be there
Why does it always end up that I am on my own?
Always?
A calendar from last year, three bruises on my neck
What is your favorite type of silence?
Mine is the kind when everything that can be said has been spoken
The kind where no one has an excuse anymore
No more secrets