there's too many things.
in this box of ours.
There's too many words.
in this dialog of ours.

There's just too much heart break;
in these chests of ours.
there's just a lack of oxygen;
in this room we share. its ours.

Every second we wait.
is every second we waste.
every breath we take;
is just every less bit of space between us.

finally I see why love is
an outburst of hate along with
a mixture of tears;
finally I realize of how blind
you can be;
when everything is just
perfect;
you dont ever want to let go.
of what was ours.

and you can just keep it.
its yours.



-------------------------

so life has been okay,
besides recent disapointments
which come in frail dispositions.
the ones where you know
what the ending is going to be
but fail to recognize the reason
you are still waiting.


thats just what I am thinking.