The frost never settles on your window,
It blows across the streaks,
Now your asking for forgiveness,
I know I can't.
The circle is theirs,
And all those like them,
But not for me.
Muddy eyes,
Black from application,
Runny too,
His fault no doubt.
But they each have needs,
And so it starts again,
Another weekend over.
Back to where they began.

Comments
Kahdai | July 1, 2010 - 19:22
Nice words for e depressive poem Will! Especially like the first part. K x
WillSimpson | July 1, 2010 - 19:38
thanking you