Tap Dancing on the Moon

Tissues

I blot my tears with tissues;
I cannot ever kiss you.
The tissues are blotted with tear stains,
Inking poems of pain
And aquarelle paintings.
Come back to me,
The way you used to be.
Back then, you held the key;
In the end, it was just another knife twisting in me.

Sometimes I wish I could just forget you.
Sometimes I'm so glad that I met you.
Sometimes I'm so mad that I let you
Do this to me.
I'm so tired of crying about you.
I'm so tired of writing about you.
I'm so tired of thinking about you.
I'm so tired of loving you.
I'm so tired.