breaking point.
Sunday, May. 25, 2003
and you wouldn't have done this to me. so i'll lay in the dark and point toward that funny shadow on my ceiling while talking to you. i miss you.
why can't you come back? why couldn't you give this life one more chance?
my head is pounding, and i'm not finding a damn thing i need in these empty faces that could no sooner care about themselves as they could care about me.
so i'm left here alone, clean pillowcases, soft bed, cool sheets, smell of rain. i'm so tired of trying to be here without you.
