Friday, July 30, 2010

Almost Outta Gas

I remember your eyes in the mornings and the way your milky legs wrapped around this neglected frame. You said things I felt from your heart and they turned out to be false facades to make your self feel better and your transition easier. I cant blame you for this. I probably would have done the same thing. Brief moments of tenderness I don't think I can ever forget. Thank you for the little you gave me. I know it was all you could give. I hope this note finds your head in a good way. I feel better, but not perfect. This moody motorcycle I ride is almost outta gas. Maybe about time to put the leather to the streets in my search. I know your gone for good and I accept this. It's okay. I'm used to this hunger eating my guts, heart and mind. The regret gnaws at my soul. Time doesn't heal all wounds. The wounded aren't pretty people. I know this. I've grown so ugly I don't recognize myself. And you probably still shine bright in the darkest of hours. Adios to the lost. I hope ...Lord ... I hope.

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