Last night you asked me how my day was, but you didn't listen through to the end. Your eyes lit up as you jumped around your own issues, and you led me by the hand toward everything we know. Across to the ends of the earth I follow, because it is my prerogative to be a fool. To be the flooded island that waits just off your cost. To gamble on the game I don't understand and never win. But when will these fruitless dreams cease? How can I free myself of your quasi-love's ghost? Like people of faith, I believe in things that I can never see. I believe that you still care about me.
No comments:
Post a Comment