Come Hither.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

The downtown fiction.




Brighten; I Lost Her

There's a hole in my heart,
which you used to get your air.
It won't beat again,
for at least another year.
You cut it out yourself,
so you won't suffocate in there.
Your patience is losing to your fear.

I lost her.

When collecting angels come,
I will rush to find your prayers.
They're buried in the closet under the stairs.
Under boxes of my dreams,
and the clutter of my fears,
my selfishness is probably why they're here.

And I kept digging my own grave,
I'm close to 30 miles deep.
I can taste the other side,
and it isn't pretty.

And I left my lover in a bottle,
and I threw it out to sea.
As soon as she left my fingertips,
I prayed she come back to me,
come back to me, baby.

I lost her (x7)

I will never stitch the hole you cut,
in hopes that you will return to me.
I will work to be a man,
yes, you will see.

Yes I will work to be your man,
yes, you will see.




You should never, ever get your hopes up.
You should see the glass as half empty.

So when the whole thing spills,


you aren't as devastated.

posted by Lynette  # 8:57:00 PM

Archives

July 2008   August 2008   September 2008   October 2008   November 2008   December 2008   January 2009   February 2009   March 2009   April 2009   May 2009   June 2009   July 2009   August 2009   September 2009   October 2009   November 2009   December 2009   January 2010   February 2010   March 2010   April 2010   May 2010   June 2010   July 2010   August 2010   September 2010   October 2010   November 2010