The dirt is collecting in the creases of empty
pages
Obscuring the words, my own, not worth
reading
Spat onto yellow notebook paper, ugly
handwriting
Burnt alive in her shell, devoted & destroyed by
her faith
Lovingly left to the
dogs
Carelessly spent like every paycheck you've ever
earned
Wasted on the cheapness of mass produced
poison
Half gone before we began, gone before
we knew better
Our transience mistaken for permanence, out of
ignorance
My belated "I love you" to late to matter
much
Just words by the time they're spoken, empty as
her promises
The sun still shines & the grass still dries, but the
silence has abandoned us
Predicting that quietness, absorbing sterile
noise
Put down the pen, crumple the page, writing about it never
changed a thing
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 12:24 PM UTC
The dirt is collecting in the creases of empty
pages
Obscuring the words, my own, not worth
reading
Spat onto yellow notebook paper, ugly
handwriting
Burnt alive in her shell, devoted & destroyed by
her faith
Lovingly left to the
dogs
Carelessly spent like every paycheck you've ever
earned
Wasted on the cheapness of mass produced
poison
Half gone before we began, gone before
we knew better
Our transience mistaken for permanence, out of
ignorance
My belated "I love you" to late to matter
much
Just words by the time they're spoken, empty as
her promises
The sun still shines & the grass still dries, but the
silence has abandoned us
Predicting that quietness, absorbing sterile
noise
Put down the pen, crumple the page, writing about it never
changed a thing
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