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Wednesday, November 30, 2011

2 days worth

Wrote the first one last night, and the second one tonight. Hope you like them. I'm still trying to shake off the rust.
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How could I expect you to understand me, when I really don't understand myself? And oh, I'll tell you what you want to hear for a minute or two, and then I'll say the wrong thing, and, well, that's the end of it. I never thought we'd end up together, and so we never did, but sometimes I wonder, when I'm lying alone in my bed, with only my mind to keep me company, sometimes I wonder if I could have had you, if only I had tried harder, or made a point to not shoot myself in the foot like I always do. I guess I'll never know.
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A haunting melody pierces my thoughts, as I sit alone tonight. I wonder if it's you that's on my mind. It's hard to say for sure what such a simple song could be, without your words to make it complete. It's not that far to where you sit, but you're not alone, and I'm left to wonder, and so I wander, and as I walk these streets we used to walk together, I can't help but think of how it was, and before I know it I'm outside your door. I knock, but you're not there. I knew you wouldn't be. I watch as the air crystallizes in front of my face. It's colder this year than it was before. Or maybe it's me that's colder. It looks like it's going to be a long hard winter, and already I can't wait for this cold to break.

Monday, November 28, 2011

I'm back

I'm going to try for the daily updates again. We'll see how it goes.
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They tell me practice makes perfect,
But if I believe that it's true,
Then where is my patience.
My focus is gone.
I know I can do this.
It's within my power
To spend just a few of my minutes each day
And stretch out the parts of my mind
That have become so recently lax, oh and so undefined
And my hope above all in this venture is just
That I might yet be able to shake off the rust
And apply a light oil, or reshape and tone
Even though I mix metaphors, still I'll be known
As the one who remembered, in spite of himself
That even your passions are dust on the shelf
If you don't take them out every now and again
And so I'm returning, like to an old friend
Whose embrace is familiar, and so it shall be
Because this time I mean it.
No, really.
Come on.
You've got to believe me.
It's okay,
I'll show you.
I'll show all of you.