Quitting
I'm tired of lying, to myself and by myself
I'm tired of dying, by myself and from my self-rolled comfort;
Packed security.
In eight years it never felt like poison
It never felt like she could kill
Call this our last embrace
Or call this my last taste
Of what I can't help but miss -
Call it a chance to reminisce
No matter.
A rose by any other name,
A kiss from any other dame -
They're both as sweet.
So let me finish one last smoke
And forgive me for thinking of you as I choke
One press to your lips always left me breathless
Copyright © Ryan Bayer | Year Posted 2010
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