You once favored me to write, I said I don't want to
Now I even could not stop writing till morning hoping it'd heals
I cracked my fingers but somehow were not enough to tend your troubled brow

My sandpaper touch across your subtle face pushed you further
Further away from me and back towards her
Too much past no enough to present, yes, something like that

And now I stand at the edge of this seamless desert watching you fade
The proximity I briefly felt was a mirage,

I always deceive myself.