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Dec 2014
If I'd ask you for a dime,
you'd just toss me a nickle.
If I'd ask for your advice,
all you'd say is, "Life is fickle."
You like to keep me wanting more,
thirsty while you hold the cup,
so when I head for the door,
I always leave without enough.

If patience is a virtue,
I could be its patron saint.
I canvassed my whole life with you
before you smeared the paint.
When I hear your off-key chorus,
it gets hard to keep composure.
I know where the door is,
but the window is much closer.

I don't want to be leaving,
but it's clear I shouldn't stay.
It's my fault for believing
all the things you had to say.
What's the use in grieving?
Nothing to lose, anyway.
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cosmo naught
Written by
cosmo naught
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