12.14.2003 :::
Sunday Night Before Finals
I wish I was an annual, or at least an inauguration,
But I'm a non-existant, a never was. Not even your
Lesson learned in pain. Rather your soap box,
Standed on, to tell people you don't know my name.
I'm sure you don't tell them of me, as your friend.
Because you've said before you don't know what
It is we are, no matter how many I love you's.
My stomach hurts, because you just hung up. And
I know it doesn't make sense. But I'm not cold
Outside. And my studying hours are consumed,
Because I really do spend time thinking of you.
I've so many more letters than you, and it's because
I love you more, I say. But that makes no sense.
Burning letters is my favorite past time. I kid.
I will cut my hair, because it's in my eyes when I
Try to look at you. That isn't funny, but it is.
And I don't like these guys you see, because I know
They don't see you, like I have on all the springtime
Winter mornings. And nothing could be perfect anymore.
Because you're not here, and I've not even met you
In my dreams, where you should most likely be.
::: posted by Matthew at 6:07 PM
