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small crime
everyday i miss you
whenever i want to kiss you
realisation sets in
settles on me
like falling dust
dust. personafied as lust.
its the wrong time and place
to be thinking of you
words gone to waste
but i dont write for them
i write because
my pencil moves
scribbless fill the groves
of words gone wrong
days are long ]since you've been gone
but im not writting this for you to read
you cant.
fingers wont touch this
you wont look up
and look into my eyes
to show me, no lies
only the truth...
but what is youth?
youth is innocence
youth is where nobody dies
in another life
id make you stay
for one last time
id hear you say.
but no one will pay
for and other wise small crime.
