Last night I cried a thousand
riddles.
This morning I saw the stains.
Little spots upon my
pillows
reminding me of everything.
Like blue eyes
that see right through me, like pictures etched on skin.
Like
falling so hard, and caring too much,
for things that were
pretend.
You said it
wouldn't always be like this.
You would have me wait for you, I
know.
But just how long would you keep me waiting?
Until we
both grow old?
A phone call
from you can't change things,
can't change these things that have
come to pass.
And telling me it's real doesn't change the
fact,
that you have put me last.
But if I were to
say I don't need you.
Then that would be amongst the biggest of
lies.
Yes, Michael I really do need you,
to solve the riddles
falling from my eyes.