This wont end quite like I'd hoped
Accept this as a promise you told me you would want it.
Made of glass it wont last because it started out wrong.
I Came to terms slowly learned.
This won’t end quite like Id hoped.
Because the words that I wrote aren’t quite what I spoke.
What would be said if your floor could speak for the blood it has soaked.
Yet it cant and is only good to spill a short note.
More than you offered the nights unending, that is all I waited for.
Your mattress told me the years of nights you sobbed till it soaked.
The razors it hid between you and your grave.
Hoping you’d succeed pulling the covers over the bed you made.
Yet you swear it only to be a hole just deep enough to find shade.
You’re cooled by the water as it fills with the rain.
Only to wake up in your tub crying in vain...
(2005)
