Saturday, December 21, 2013

Dry Erase

Changing face while trying to dry erase my past regrets, frustrated insinuations have not proved me wrong in the day I'll have no fear. I'll chase my yesteryear's, while, flooding fast the rivers of infatuation pull me close you got me thinking of happily ever after with just one look.

A new chick crossed my path late last night while I was up I saw the sunset; leaving my phone of vibrate draining the battery and hoping you will not call. But I turned it back on hoping a message popped up only to see the blank screen.

I''ve been such a patient boy waiting on the phone but always feeling so alone. Did you notice that my eyes were jaded with  terrors? It's the fear of being alone that kills the best part of my day. You will only refer to a dashboard confessional connecting the dots to the first time we met. Alluding to the time, I never thought I'd say this time it's for good. Sweep underneath a front door memory and sort this out sort this out on your own time. I'm sorting this out on my own. Telling my conscious to stop slipping in, while, pretending the truth of backing down is breaking me down.

I'm all dressed up and ready to go, but my regrets will haunt me because the change is me, but you will never know. I'm so sure you conveniently left your phone off, dropped my call missed my called and left the ringer on silent. I think I get your point you will never change your ways, don't forget that I'm all dressed up and ready to go, but you will never change.

You don't know whom you are and I simply find it rather shameful.

If God didn't exist the best part of my day, would be gone. God will not leave me here on my own. He won't leave me here to starve to death. I'd be sweltering unto oblivion with failure intentions. So if I see you for one more time I'd believe there's a pity in whatever the truth brings. And, even though the bed is cold on my side I'd rather die than to spend this night here without you, I've been such a laughing stock, but don't you worry about that.

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