[23 May 2006 | Tuesday]
 | Not meant to be kissed Graces me with hands Not meant for my touch I'm cold and distant Just waiting for a hint She can't be this close She can't, too much. Gave her not my permission Twisted into submission And the pain of the cold Annoying and persistent- The crime of faded love's transition The cry to hold onto oppression The searing pain in fashion Retreating into omission. She- Tearing and rending Premeditating And the soluble distress Of dissolvable happiness The stench and reek of unrequited Loneliness- She touches me through a phone line Reaching through time She graces me Entrances me Kisses me With rubber glove intimacy And leaves. The buzz of the hang up Frustrated and banged up I reach for the cold And it fits like a mold So much for the hope of reprieve- So much for remembering She- |
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