One day closer to the story,
I hear you mumble everyday.
You pour these wishful incentives
into a false sense of hope.
"we're better off, the two of us"
and words can cure almost any itch,
but only temporarily because
come time tomorrow...yesterdays forgotten
and despite that top drawer first aid kit
I cannot find a Band-Aid big enough
to wrap around the lies
you've cut into my back with.
*
So my ambulance blares,
running over innocent bystander's
and mental pedestrians on a street
paved with abandon dreams
& vacant parlors of deception,
but even though I go 80...in the 35...
I'm still only one day closer
to your story of lies.