

Just Let GoAnother restless dusty eyed attempt at sleep. 1 am starring at a blank computer screen willing the words to write themselves so that I can reach you the only way I know how: in lyrics, in stanzas, in metaphors. Frustrated once again by your withholding and my own unreserved letting go, a pattern I will never grow too accustomed to. But wishing that I wasn’t always defined by complex emotions and an unsettled stomach. I can’t lose you now.Just Let Go
Knowing that my familiarity, my composure, could be wasted away in a pausing glance and a flip of brown hair makes my eyes


Wasted Like A CiggeretteI refuse to serve as your esthetic apparition Temporary and uninspired So take a good hard look Memorize this arch of my eyebrows and the part of my lips In the light from these parted blinds Staleness enclosed in our intertwined words I wont be defined by waiting By uncertainty So forget my blatant attempt at Approval and the fact that One of your simple adjectives Makes my stomach cinch Eloquence is not your finest point So I lied about a few things But im not the type to reveal it all And you are not a lovemaker like you say But rather defined bWasted Like A Ciggerette


Waiting for the AfterYou ask me who I am today, feigning interest in my more-than-one-word answer. And for a moment there I think you really want to know. Commenting on a beautiful day, a beautiful smile. But daytime only lasts so long around here and with night comes smoke kissed wishes unanswered and too long pauses brushed away. Because everyone is emotionally unavailable at night. 2am conversations overrated and undermined. Blurry voices telling me to leave a message at the tone but all I want is to just talk to you Nothing more.Waiting for the After
This is not what you think it’s about.


Another NightNight breathes heavy misty outlines under my lips. My figure, a watercolor image of my impermanence, no more appreciative than curious. I don’t want to chase my own charcoaled shadow anymore- always two steps and an absent heartbeat behind. The ground has always felt hard but for once I only notice the texture, uneven and deliberate beneath my feet. My eyes are drained over and tired because I always reveal too much but not enough. Un-approving of the wheels spinning in my mind. My satin lashes rapidly working to let in the moonlight. Patiently standing, allowing a wash oAnother Night
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