You know, I still look for you in the crowd.
Or up in the sky, expecting you surfing on a cloud.
Imagining you come is my sport and fun.
Scenarios that play on constant re-run.
You are always the hero in each one.
But they are all lies, from my heart, spun.
Lies to fill an unfeeling emptiness
Rent from promises, disingenuous
Saturday, August 25, 2012
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