i find myself wondering
if she really hates me
as much as she would like to
she really believe that.
it was all...
all of it was something like
the picture i never sent.
the letters piled high on my floor.
waiting to be mailed
to an address that has no doubt
changed by this time
but what exactly
aside from everything
she doesnt want to hear.
everything ill never say, anyway
and everything thats.
that shed like to believe
whas never really there
i wonder if.
if shes really happy.
if shes really...the happiest she could be.
happier than i ever made her?
happier than i have ever been?
i cant help but feel that shes running
that shes hiding in the comfort
of someones big warm arms.
shielding her eyes
from the light that burns.
that burned the reflection of me there.
that never ended.
the night we sang as loud as wolves.
towards the ceiling of the room
we shared for years.
where we hid our fortunes
locked them tight with chewing gum
and stuffed them far far back in the back
of our memories.
so that we would never really loose them
but would never really be reminded of them either.
and i wonder sometimes.
if she ever wonders about me.
if what SHE said to me was ever really truth
or if i was just
a line to be crossed
a name to be written during boring lectures
if i just filled a frame
that any other body could have filled
just the same way
but she filled me.
she crammed me full of feelings
of birth and death and..
thoughts of forever and rings
and i bled for her.
i carved her name in my skin night
until i thought that it would never heal
unitl i thought..
that she would never
leave my skin.
my hand would never leave her hair.
her breath would never breathe
a sigh that didnt whisper my name somewhere
and i died a little bit each time
i died a little bit
with every look that made her look away
from the picture perfect garden of bliss
she will say
she will say