your mess strewn among the furniture. your breath floating in my proximity.
i wish that i had some solace.
i just keep trying to find sleep's nudge.
cause i lay alone at night lonely, although i prefer it this way.
it's value surpassed your warmth somewhere along the final say.
we were like an epic written backwards in two time. a simple fallacy following: book, chapter, verse one.
but i miss you more than words can say.
and i wish that i lay where you lay.
visits with flowers in hand are something new to me. they seem to wither before i step foot in the door.
nothing is perfect enough for how i wanted to make it for you.
and now i'm jaded in the worst possible way.
apathy's got her hands all over me.
as cold as it may be, i still prefer it this way.
diminishing your warmth somewhere along the final say.