12/28/08

Your tongue is like a
calendar
script
of overused lines and generic phrases,
spread for reward.
Not the truth,
which I was never worthy of.
You could never hold me tight enough,
because you knew what would happen if you let go.
Our wired bodies were always connected by
one
single bolt, but I can only handle so much.
Which you expected more of.
Let's be realistic;

we're

all

the

same

simply in the fact that we're all trying to be different.
So stop the charades,
our time is up,
and on that eastern shore,
the sun is setting in the Chesapeake.