taken aback
waiting on the thing you can't have
and it's painful, like a bruise
that never really leaves you
I'd love to sit around
and hear the words that
splutter out your mouth
sifting through sand
jump in to find the missing pieces
never find them, like a story
whose last page is missing
I'd love to be around
to see the desperation
fumble in your blouse
stop, hold
it'll be a little, be a little
longer, now
an insult waiting, insult waiting
on you, how
insinuating, insinuating
for you, for you
spin back and forth
tired from the constant searching
it's so mundane, like a day
you keep reliving backwards
I'd love to be around
but I'll never come
to know your voice's sound
