Wednesday, December 10, 2008

The Truth That Hurts Most

I watch as she traipses across the width of Kingsway
with spits and spatters of rain hitting the streetlamps
dressed in a black leather jacket and tied back blonde hair
it settles with me that my imagination was well fair

sitting, her eyes find distraction in the busy street
occupation with the activity and bustle indiscreet
but when her eyes eventually meet inline with mine
I'm more positive there's a glisten in them tonight

coffee and cigarettes is not an expense I consider great
when it takes place in the pleasure of her company
and something I realised in the midst of conversing
was the girl I thought I knew wasn't so and thus alerting

was the situation I wasn't sure if was dating and I
grew past any discerning whether interest or faking
then in the contemplating on the walk back to my car
I debated whether my goodbye appeared instigating

of further intentions beyond a late evening coffee
cause when I leaned in by her cheek I sure got the
impression I missed where her lips wished be placed
and as I tripped and became awkward made the mistake

of letting goodbye be a look over my shoulder
rather than what I could have let honesty show her
all things considered the truth that hurts us the most
is that to the invitation to know me I'm burden of a host

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