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Pissed Off
Your name is still written at
my peak, you know
not that you think of such things
of course, weíre both so busy
I canít ask you to give me an hour
explain to me
why I canít question you!
Give me a reason you havenít
said - what? Six times by now??!
Quit trying to make me feel better!
I know itís there, I know
what you did! I see you!
Do you know what pain becomes
when it hits the truth? It feeds!
It explodes. It rages against
my stomach and snaps my spine
around itself until I am one
nerve, raw and waiting
to see you again.
I ask God how I can be doing this
I want to be absolved of all
these memories
I smell your scent in my
clothes and oh, God - there is
not a word short and sharp
enough for it
It comes so quick
Iíll try to cut it down to one question
When will all this stop mattering?