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Ana, where you been?

I've since degraded into sin.

Come clean me.

Hear my little song-like words.

So tired of stanza elegance.

I only want to pen

My sentiments

For you...



I'm blackened

And I'm begging for a stroke of light

From angel wings tonight

To wipe me chaste and white.

Yeah, I know it sounds greedy

But as you know

You are the only one in this fucked up shithole of a world

That can see me

For what I really am.



Pick me up around seven.

We'll go to the corner store

And shop around for Post-Its

So we can lay on my cushiony bed

And pass notes of only a line

That ache to be read...



"Ana, come clean me."

It was a song I had in my head

In the restroom.

And hummed it along the way

Back to my desk

To type it up.

But here I rest.

They never come out the same.

So I'll say...



Ana, come clean me...