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May 2012
my hands, their so *****, my hands, their so bruised,
I hate the scars that you call tattoos,
I hate each time you crush the feelings I have for you,
I hate the fact that you proclaim your desire to have me around, because I know its just to fill all the free time that you seem to have found,
you ***** and moan and smoke cigarettes in the sun but when I try to speak the truth that’s when you run, youd cry if I ever left and youd laugh if I called you love,
bittersweet, bittersweet,
you’ve been drowning for years while ive been watching from above,
bitter tears, friendship and fear, why is it so hard to tell you im done?  
I feel lost, and I feel joy,
I have moments to tell and words to lay my soul upon,
I set them down gently upon an ocean of air,
sometimes they find their way to peoples hearts and do their damage,
the evidence is in their laughter,
in their anger,
in their tears,
you don’t understand she said,
you don’t know,
I thought I could be happy she said, just this once I thought it would be alright,
and now I’m supposed to pretend, Im supposed to pretend not to care,
not to want you,
not to be upset,
you don’t understand, for a little while I was happy.
marcus pendergraft
Written by
marcus pendergraft  30/M
(30/M)   
554
 
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