Friday, October 1, 2010

You Can Tell Everybody This is Your Song.

If my lips carried the weight of the hearts they have injured,
my jaw would hang open in amazement all day.
People would stare down the gaping hole of my throat
and see the confusion beneath my esophagus.
I wonder, "What does it mean to be your girlfriend?"
I promise I will be true until I am bored or something goes wrong with you.
(Yet there is a spark of hope in my veins, the same color as your eyes)
Procrastination.
If my life were a novel, I would stand looking at the table of contents,
planning the course so that I never reach
The End.

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