[ Hanging on to every word, ]

Hanging on to every word,
to catch a single breathe.
Living just to hear the gentle words
he speaks to me.
God! my writing's horrible!
i want nothing more than a great piece of work.
I want him to hug and kiss me
under the summer nights....
just like he used to.

So blackness covers the stars again.
why do I hate so much...?
Why don't I love the way I'm supposed to?
I taste bitterness just to have a story
I bleed tenderness just to see his mouth move...
When, after it does,
It's the last thing I want.

I can't help but to mention the umentionables.
I like the look on the stars
when they hear those horrible secrets.
They fade in and out of darkness,
making them harder to count.
Making it hard to even name the constillations.

So I breathe because he wants it...
Or at least he wants to want it.

My words are getting bolder
And the times are just another thing to keep track of.
Why do I hate it?
Who knows....
But, still,
I hang on to every horrible,
lack-luster word.




7/09/09