Sanoja: Impossibles. Plan B.

push-pinned my picture to your wall,
framed it in pieces of argyle.
there's a thread for every minute I missed my chance to begin it.
I could feel the pressure building up as I cram it to the top,
a coffee can filled with letters.
my ears begin to pop as the tension drops.
we've fallen down, someday you won't be around for me to fall back on.
it's so akward to say goodbye to you,
the tensest moment when I fail to follow through,
I'm all wound up and then you tighten the screws,
my want turns to need as you slip on the noose.
As I push my pen across the page casting my spell like a first level mage,
my epic battle between love and rage
a melodramatic mess not fit for my age we've fallen down,
all my innocence has drowned since you've gone she says I'm changing everyday,

she wants to know how, why, and who with.
she says there's still good left in me like I'm the dark lord of the sith.
I write this every single winter,
and now I'm writing it again: I shed my common sense in exchange for newer skin.
the good news is that I've finally learned to appreciate my friends,
the bad news is that I havent got any left,
the good news is that I dream about it almost every night,
the bad news is that when I wake up you're not there.