Heap

You say these words to me
like they're magic incantations
and I melt because I'm solid,
like ice.
I'm cold.
It's just the weather.
It's a reaction to the season.
It's the rainy misconception
and the waste of another reason.
It's all misunderstanding.
It's all in bad hand writing.
It's all a lie about love and loving.
Warm hands or eyes -
it makes no difference -
it all amounts to shit:
the substance which you fed me.
Broken promises spell trouble
so I guess I'm in a heap,
but I wish you'd still come find me;
even your lies sound pretty sweet.

************************************************

It's about dishonesty. Or loving.

Or maybe there's not much of a difference.







"I'm kickin' like a kid 'cause I can't get rid of it." Kevin Devine Trouble