it’s strange
how different the world looks
when all those pretty angels you kissed in the rain
are somewhere far away
feeding another man’s children

and you’re just treading water in a new pond
slightly bigger than the last
and calling it progress

so let’s pull this bus over to the side
of the bad idea highway
and have a row where everyone can see
just how far we’ve gone from where we started

we can spend another night pretending
this isn’t as bad as we let it get
that this fuckup is fixable

or we can shake hands and say “good game”
and walk off the field
bloodier and wiser than when we started

before this love kills us both
or ferments into hate
like a bad wine

and i have to add you to the list
of those i held so tight i let go

can we build a bridge over these waters?
or should we sink
into the soft and silent darkness?

darling, i’ll hold your hand as we descend…

Published in: on October 15, 2009 at 9:18 pm  Leave a Comment  

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