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Jan 2012
Your lips tasted like smoke
From the buildings you watched burn
While standing dead center

Our bodies are practiced in the art of
Collapsing

If these walls could talk
They’d be livid from your laughter
And semi-suicidal for paint thinner
To cause just enough wither so the broken glass can finally fall out

I will gladly buckle at the backbone
Bulging out my belly to
Reveal all that beauty inside

If it means you’ll forgive me
You can take it

Because I am sorry seven ways to Sunday
Just seven days till Sunday
Seven chances not to **** up before
I have to beg for your forgiveness again

This is the church of falling apart

The church constructed of the things
Tempers make
I am one baseball bat bash away from being broken and saved

You might’ve told me you were trouble
I should’ve noticed
After I saw you smash a
Cinderblock through a car window
Just to take a pack of smokes from the dash

And you could have called my bluff
After I ****** your best friend behind your back
For the fifteenth time

Lemme catch your deer in headlights again
Because our last conversation wasn’t ****** enough
Lemme bend willingly into your bed
And fall into whatever mess we forgot to clean up the night before

Stop quaking my fault lines with your fingertips
I know laughter when I hear it
I can see your sneers in the dark

And I can light a match
Light a cigarette
Burn a house down

This is the church of falling apart

No one ever asked forgiveness while standing

The church where the shape of prayer is a ball
Hands clasped behind neck
Head between knees
And morse code  shivers

Signaling

I don’t really know why you hate me so much
But Please
Forgive me
Jon Tobias
Written by
Jon Tobias  San Diego
(San Diego)   
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