Stones and Breads

November 5, 2007

With this tired
and trembling hands

I 'll live through your words-
promises of yesterday;

a pact signed in a piece of crumpled paper,
overthrown by its components.

Now, tell me what waiting for me there?
jilted promises
and unforgiven past
or just your established pride?
Goodbye's not the right word,
promises isn't either,
so what could that be?
waiting or slipping?

or petty misunderstanding?
Over blown languages
from deceitful tongues
invaded each of our juvenile hearts.

I'm sitting down here,
I know you're waiting there...

Dearest you know your my best,
Nothing should interfere i guess.
So much with this nonsensical pest
for I should have my anticipated rest.

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