Despondent glances cast between us in the memory you composed
Overlooking words I long to say, long for you to know
Under assumption of greater things, which need not be discovered
Gleaming skin and dying eyes of a clandestine lover
Left alone, fatigued, bereft, jaded in my tension
And you, my dear, superb, unfazed, immune to our dissention
Somehow I cannot look away, somehow I cannot flee
Zero-hour closes in, I must find sanctuary
Every note, a memoir, hand-addressed to your spite
Pressing, I hope, on your heart, that you might feel my cry
Keeping in tradition, before I realize my worth
All that I have given you, flung harshly in the dirt
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