12.01.2003 :::
Men Age
A weekend soliloquy where you were mine and mine alone.
I knew it wouldn't matter in the end, my sister's friend.
I, that's not me, I don't do these things, but you offered,
To take my mind off things, to become my midnight story.
You're not who I want you to be, but the drinks race along.
Forgetting all the romance, I practiced in the evening rain.
It's awkward at first, like the first time, because you're new.
Is this a sin, when the day began so terribly against you?
Everyone, even the children, you try to make amends, also
You find the time to say, we'll see the same old starts, go's
It'll be February, and I think I've just made you up in haste.
But I can't, won't want that to be true, though I won't think.
I'm not in love, and you can't break my heart, you're relief.
From a grungy adolescent teenage funnybone wedding.
I know it's not love, cause I thought of her, the mystery.
The uncertain confusion, who I only know a supposed name.
She never gave in this easy, and I told her I never did, lies.
I never wanted this, the choice to ruin a lifetime of love and
More, because you were foreign, well as foreign as could be.
Thanks a lot, it helped, and maybe I'll see you on the road.
::: posted by Matthew at 9:33 PM
