rdsherlock

I could change the status message twice a day
Till you get tired of asking what is wrong
Or what it means,
And yet you will do.
Maybe it is your idea of being comforting,
Or better still, being close.
But how long will you care?
I was sorry the day I found out we could count days...
Our lives could be counted away on pages of calenders!
So your "forever" is but a few rotations and revolutions of the planet.

When every slow song seems to say what I feel
And fail to tell me why,
I slowly make my way to the computer.
Did I not want it to be private?
I could have easily used a paper and a pen...
I want you to find me; if you do I turn illusive.
You keep asking and guessing.
"Try and understand me", I think, even when I do not know what it is,
And then I ask you to offer me some solitude and peace.
Yet I feel sorry when you leave - puzzled, or maybe not caring at all.