Like I Knew You At All.

He muttered his useless words, like they’d make a difference. He spoke of all his nonsense dreams and misled nightmares. But I could never hold his attention long enough to keep him from sleep. He had his own ways, ways that weren’t about me; it was never about me. And there wasn’t much I could do about it. He had his life, and I had mine. The only in-between, was the merciless nights we spent together, only lying to ourselves, and once in awhile, each other. Nights we would lay on his cold bed, with no love, but covered in lust. And his spineless actions that could offend his own mother. (2003)


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