curbdrop out of grace

cm

wilco on the radio,
i am gonna break your heart,
love is measured in cigarettes,
in silhouettes,
the dark.

i see you in her lips,
i see you in her hips,
you're the one i'm with,
when she lays down for sleep.

birthday wishes,
kisses near misses,
when we collide,
too old to decide,
too young to care,
too drunk to be aware,
that these stares,
are supposed to seduce.

when i think,
i dream,
when i drink,
to seem,
like the scene is acceptable,
forgettable,
i blur the edges of faces,
until they look more like yours.

you are not missy,
you are what's missing,
not make belief or relief,
but grace.

and so tomorrow,
when i wake,
i will hope an end to being friends,
and start over,
set on fire.

posted by fillshe @ 12:37 AM