i lost him on sunday only to find him on friday sitting on my door step drunk, stoned, lonely i asked him if he wanted to come inside for a little tea and company he said he'd like that very much
so up we go taking one step at a time growing weary in our old age
what happens next is not a tender tale of friendship its a lesson of reality and the bitterness of truth
i lost him midweek only to find him on a blue monday pacing back and forth across the street i motion for him to cross over he says he can't because other people will see
ive never asked him but i want to know why he's so ashamed to be by my side to admit that i make him stronger ive never asked him but i want to know why im treated as an extra you know, those seat fillers at award shows who give up their spots when someone more important comes along
i lost him on a thursday only to think of him 2 hours later im waiting patiently, scanning the traffic walking the boulevard sitting at our cafe i refuse to believe that he may be gone forever with wounds that refuse to heal, he can't survive alone forever
my hands hurt from trying to grip emptiness im scared to believe that my doctoring has been in vain because im forgotten with each new day so im saving all my pretty dresses for the funeral when im finally put to rest and i wont be around to wait for your return again