Thursday, October 25, 2012

Are you going to ask me to leave
and wash the hope off of my hands?
That's the one thing I left clinging to my skin,
when I had tried to leave you behind
and couldn't keep myself away.
But I had failed to keep you then,
and maybe I've failed now,
but it wasn't through a lack of trying,
but a lack of knowing who you were,
who you wanted to be, and who you saw me to be,
and how to differentiate those images and those actions
from the words that came out of your mouth.