October 2010
11 posts
I don’t even know what to say to you anymore.
You tell me you want to be close again, then you ignore me.
I honestly don’t know how much longer I can cling to hope.
Ohaiku:
I think I love you.
I want to believe in it.
I really want to.
Idiosyncrasy:
When I boil down the fact, my taste in men is pretty much defined.
Do I have an ideal? A singular perfect man that, in my mind, would drive me head over heels?
I tell myself no. There’s no such thing as that. Why should there be?
I find that to be pretentious and ultimately leading to many failed relationships because a particular flaw doesn’t fit that ever rising standard.
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Like a go-go-go-ghost:
Now I’m gone in your photograph I bet you wish you could get me back Now I’m stuck in your memory A mistaken identity What’s his name? What’s he like? Does he know that you’ll never treat him right?
Why must it be this way?
Personally, I never regret going back to you everytime.
You always make me feel special. You really do.
But, that once a month chance encounter isn’t enough for me.
You always say you’ll do more.
You promise you’ll visit me the next day.
Yet you consistently give wings to my skepticism.
And it’s beginning to take it’s toll.
Fortunately, I think I love you.
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