Sunday, January 29, 2012

Still Throwing Sticks.

My tears are running a marathon
down my cheeks
trying to find the place
where your shoulder should be.

The silence is deafening
I long to hear your voice.
Even a day without you
kills a piece of my heart.

I don't have much of it left now
ever since I gave you most of it.
I hope you're keeping it safe
Because it seems I'm still
throwing sticks at the remains I have.

A million what if's pollute my mind
making me doubt all the truth
I know deep inside.
Help me know you are
still there for me
There to hold my hand the next time
our eyes meet again.

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