please don't hang up on me
The passion of
pain in my vains
keeps pushing me to explain,
embody and express,
this emptyness...
She knows what this feels like.
Can she not relate and relize?
I remember when we used to pretend.
Always, December, when will this end?
This sensation inside my heart,
wrapped around every inside part,
is burning me out from within.
It makes me anemic and thin.
December is starting again...
...so i sit and stir her into my cup alone.
Everytime she hangs up the phone
I'm left less alive and
listening... to dial tone.
-this is not my time of year.
.
.