You have to know where you've been to ignore where you're not going.
I can't figure out if I'm guy 3 or 4 in all these poems.
I know they knew.
The Taxi driver you met today knew.
The guy at the cash register.
You're in there, somewhere.
If we'd of had these last few months I would have yelled at you.
During that crisis, waiting for you to say what I needed to hear.
During that bad day when I needed that reassurance.
During that post sex period where you want to give me a thumbs up but can't because you think that's weird but it's not.
Where would you be when a cuddle isn't enough?
What would you say when my parents die?
What would you say if our child dies?
What would you say to me as I was dying?
You get one chance to say the right thing.
Saying the wrong thing is better than saying nothing.
Sitting in there with all that pain behind your eyes.
Dispensing IOU's of emotion.
You're not incapable, which makes me so mad.
Mad FOR you, not at you.
Whoever made you feel like you weren't enough was dead wrong.
You are Sisyphus trying to stop the boulder from rolling downhill.
Your sentiments are 2D, Flat, Arial.
Nothing I can touch.
Phill Thomas Shat