It's two in the morning and I drive by your house,
The lights are out and I can't knock on your window. As the cherry of my cigarette goes out, I think it’s the end of our friendship. Can I light another? Can I light another? I drive away and place the unlit butt in my mouth, Wishing this cigarette was your lips. I can't touch them anymore. I can't touch them anymore. While driving home, I hit more red lights than usual. Can I light another? I'm so tired. I'm so tired.
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April 2017
FootnotesSome thoughts on art, life, and theatre. Stay positive. Categories |