abril 10, 2011

It can't be me. I must not be me. I'm falling down in pieces, and trying to fix it all. That's not just me. I need time on my own, I've never needed so much before.
Maybe it's the way you lied, or just the way you looked back. Maybe it's my condemnation. That's not fair. It shouldn't have been me. I'm probably crying, or screaming, or suffering inside. I'm probably just writing it all down, kinda feel-for-word. And still, all my wounds are not healing, just can't. Sew them up. I know you can. Come back. Make me believe it wasn't me. And it wasn't you. It was just the time that was wrong, the place that was far away, the circumstances that were excruciatingly perverse. It was the wrong day, the wrong season, the wrong kind of words, the wrong mistake. Let me believe it wasn't me, I'll keep pretending it wasn't. COME TAKE ME HOME.