I have heard more depth in you're welcomes
Than I have in thank you's
And more sincerity in I hate you
Than in apologies
And why is it that you sound tired
when you say you love me
Like the words taste stale on your tongue
and sour on your lips
Like a carton of milk that's
been left out too long
I have heard more meaning
in leave
than I ever did
in stay
So maybe that's why I'm always
pushing people away
Because I know eventually one day
promises will hold about as much value
as a rose bush stands a chance
in December
None