with a simple handful of dirt
i'm tossing it into my bag
hoping to avoid the hurt
of your loss;
and i thought
at what cost?
i'm already suffering the blues
remembering all i can lose
when you depart.
the pain in my heart
takes me to bed
turns out my light
whispers sweet words
but nothing feels right.
am i in Paris
or buried in Berlin,
with a handful of poppies
and a bottle of gin?
a killer takes aim,
but my driver knows the score,
running all the red lights
to the next World War
with a simple handful of dirt
i'm tossing it into my bag
hoping to avoid the hurt
of your loss;
and i thought
at what cost?
i'm already suffering the blues
remembering all i can lose
when you depart.
the pain in my heart
takes me to bed
turns out my light
whispers sweet words
but nothing feels right.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please leave your thoughts.