It seems like an eternity since we last spoke a real word
something that didn't hurt and wasn't absurd.
I can't remember that  real ******* feeling
I can hardly tell because of blind love, the walls from the ceiling.
Give me some clues, a valid trail to follow
not these bitter words that I am forced to swallow.
You are in or you're out, my cracked heart needs to know
it would not be easy but I can pack and go.
Disaster strikes at the strangest times and  will always pick
an unexpected moment like a red clay brick.
Hurt me or **** me, bury me deep or come home
There is no point in this two hearts on the roam.
All good things come to a vicious end
just like a strong old willow tree will finally bend.

WHC
Copyright Jan.6/2014