Saturday, January 22, 2011

Rough Draft

'I'm breathing in your skin tonight.
Quiet is my loudest cry;
Wouldn't want to wake the eyes that make me melt inside.

And if it's easier to leave you be,
May your sickness come and set me free;
Kill me while I still believe that you were meant for me.'

All I can think of is the first night you stayed over.
And how much I just couldn't bring myself to wake you.
Why can't I let you go?


-Oedipus

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