watch me want to cut you down.
see the denial and intentions
that hopelessly feel short in
my eyes. though there's nothing
funny about laying the grave,
i've been known to laugh in the
presense of a ticking clock.
it seems 'if only' has been
schedueled on my calendar, day
after day. wrecked with blood
and hope. i'd tie a string
around your finger if it kept
you from falling loose in
distance and time. as late as
we are, smiles have fallen
and chocked the strangers of

the innocence we long ago lost
to self inflicted wounds, and
misunderstood, trembling forgivness.