Hello; what’s up?
The usual routine –
You seem quiet and typically normal.
A look, a kiss –
already it’s starting:
You revived . . . and I will murder you again.
We cannot cross paths , , , even for a moment . . .
or else we are always fighting.
Don’t call me; don’t come ’round.
The bridges to me
have been wired to explode.
All the ways go from me
to somebody else
who you truly deserve.
We can be no longer friends
any more.
We can’t.
“Get clean” – “get high” –
one after another,
since my pride . . . threatens to take a fall.
My guts also
are churning inside me.
and my heart . . . is lacking in support.
We cannot cross paths , , , even for a moment .
or else we are always fighting
Don’t call me; don’t come ’round.
The bridges to me
have been wired to explode.
All the ways go from me
to somebody else
who you truly deserve.
We can be no longer friends
any more.
We can’t.
All the ways go from me
to somebody else
who you truly deserve.
We can be no longer friends
any more.
We can’t.
We can’t.
We can’t.