"g u i l t

hangs as heavy as the white dress resting on my door

waiting

to be worn just one more time

(it's just one more lie, dear)

and he's shaking,

fingers itching to curl around my throat

hang me with my words;

because

it's never what he thinks

and

it's never how it seems

but

to him it's all the same.

'Our apologies never did mean much, my love.'"

1:10 pm 4/24/2006


A.N: my goddess, can I do nothing right here lately??