12 May 2007


you're close enough to touch, but i won't.
i'd rather keep you clean and pretty.
i sit, content to reminisce
on little bits of time, of my life,
idling minds, binding by their decline.
and i submit, as the west gets jealous.
cause i came undone, the sun was empty.
and now it's nothing, just like dust.
it failed us all, and we'd be grateful
for one more day of time, of light.