24/9/12

am i still wasting my breath on the perversion of your words? there is so long to go before you can even begin to know and tonight it is too cold to pretend like that's okay anymore. i can't wait for this like i've waited for you; like i've waited for everything else. the blood has drained from my face this time, but you will tell me it's all fine, anyway. every constant we've ever prayed to will expire against a clock, somewhere, and i will be your stranger then; a cheek pressed against the damp glass of a bus window. and the drifters on the side walk will not know me; the girls in broken buckled shoes. the flush of my face as the thing pulls away, stealing me with it. the street below will be your thief, and i will understand nothing as i watch myself go; the reflection of my swollen eyes in the grey of the fogged glass. i am your stranger, now time has stolen you away. i am your equal; your superior; the ball of lint buried in the folds of your pocket.