A hope... that you will come back to me someday.
I don’t know why, for it is impossible, but I do hope.
Did you find me wanting or just simply unoccupied? Your lies have short legs; my misunderstandings, long arms.
Beyond the point of caring, armed with a new religion: Every day I face West and blow you a kiss, wild as the wind that carries it. I pray that it blows through your skin.
I am the prize fighter that still says please. I hit hard but stay away... from the impossible things.
I don’t know why, for it is impossible, but I do hope.
Did you find me wanting or just simply unoccupied? Your lies have short legs; my misunderstandings, long arms.
Beyond the point of caring, armed with a new religion: Every day I face West and blow you a kiss, wild as the wind that carries it. I pray that it blows through your skin.
I am the prize fighter that still says please. I hit hard but stay away... from the impossible things.
Do you face East to bribe the impossible... or to beg off? I would thank you either way.
Luck or chance? It is irrelevant. A contemplation of the absurd. You've given to me your slow-bloom, as you seduce your way through life by your sheer beauty and unaccountable magnetism.
Is it really possible that you have not bestowed your diamond eyes? Unlikely -- liars need longer memories... fools need shorter ones.
I will liberate me from you... or perhaps me from myself. A hope as wild as the wind.
K.P.
"If you continue in my word, then you are my disciples . . . And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." (John 8:32)
