MischaLecter

Poetry
2002-05-12 21:09:36 (UTC)

Twenty-Four

(yea yea..it's about the ex..the first twenty-four hours
that life blew up)


It's been just twenty-four
Can't sleep, won't eat
Without you
Classic calls, grasping at our past, begging
To roll in shit
Classic avoidance, you wash your hands clean
While I keep rolling, calling, grasping
I planned a perfect life
Please, love
Five months, it's all I ask
You looked at me for a year
What's five months?
Give me five
But never a twenty-four
As rough as this


"Forty-Eight"

The next twenty-four
Never as painful as the initial blow
I've got my answers
Without your effort, I'm insatiable
I don't need you - I need your idea
Five months is less a day now
The perfect life
Is not what it was

**How my perception
of perfection
Distorts, destroys love
Maybe I was right
Maybe I'll never see you by choice
I can
I will
Grow out of love


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