Over and over again I
Lacerate my index across,
Flipping page after page
Trying to catch up to the
Part of this story where
You are, or where I think
You may be, and every time
I smear just a drib of my
Blood over the edges and leave
A trail I leave a bookmark
For when I'm reminiscing
And ruminating of the words
That could have filled the
Otherwise blank pages and given
Substance to our tacit exchanges.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 12:15 PM UTC
Over and over again I
Lacerate my index across,
Flipping page after page
Trying to catch up to the
Part of this story where
You are, or where I think
You may be, and every time
I smear just a drib of my
Blood over the edges and leave
A trail I leave a bookmark
For when I'm reminiscing
And ruminating of the words
That could have filled the
Otherwise blank pages and given
Substance to our tacit exchanges.
