The Art Of Contradiction

Here to stay, but letting go, and with a
single word, he killed his soul.
"But, baby, my spirit lives on."
"Yeah I know, I know."
I trust the wind in the river, and the
thunder in his hair, and they both
tell me the same. He was special the first
time he sang.
Just as good, but letting go, and an erased
note returned nothing, but has grown.
I sleep with the radio buzzing and the
flowers on the floor. "In a paradox
world, it's okay to want more."
Beautifully said, but letting go, I don't think
he wants me anymore.
"You have a beautiful smile."
"I really don't think so."
I taste the air in the state, and the wheat
fields they raped. He can't be described to you,
but is truly to blame.
In Michigan, from far away, I can still
hear his voice, even over the rain.