I write slightly intoxicated.
Maybe it's from tge *****.
Or maybe it's from you r kisses.
Or the way you felt on that rooftop.
All I now is I've not felt like this for a long while.
And you seem to know everything I could need.
Kissing you makes me high.
Touching you gets me drunk.
You touching me.
Holding me.
Well that's almost enought to make me passs out.
What am was I saying,
Oh, yeah
You make me feel really quite special.
Intoxicated
And it's not just hte ***** talking.

cann you passs me the potato salads

I will turn you into poetry
Because that's the only way
I know how to cope
Every word seems to seal my fate
It is to late for us
I never deserved you
Nothing I do
Will ever earn your love
I'm sorry
~
I wondered for the longest time
If you had died
If your family would tell me
I know that's a horrible motivation
~
Now I wonder
When I passs
If you will remember my soul
As it was with you
Or how terribly dark
It is without
~
Only one of us
Will be burdened
With 'what ifs'
In the end


------------------------
'In the end
As we fade into the night
Who will tell
The story of our life'
-Andy Black

In the morning,
All is too loud
Small groups gathered
All around
Isolated in the crowded folds
Listening to stories told
Unnoticed up against the wall
As I stand alone in the hall

In the morning,
My stomach growls
A hungry tune
As people passs
With plates of food
But I shall not partake
Lactose intolerance
Stands in my wake

In the morning,
People glance my way
Passing by without
Chancing a second
Look my way
They say I seem odd
I doubt they realize I overhead

Because, in the morning,
Though the world continues
It's melancholy turn
And the sun remains in the sky
I am marked as invisible
Not quite meant to fit in
Left to listen in the sly
Hidden in my treacherous skin