“July can’t come soon enough”
The neon signs inside your head
Are scrolling messages across
Around and inside you.

The sick red colour
Of the word “can’t”
Sticks out in your memories.
Can’t. Shouldn’t. Won’t.

“If I were a painter,
mixing my colour
how could I ever find
the blu… brown of your eyes?”

(I’ll give you a hint:
you’ll find it
20 years from now
when all I am is a memory)

04/13/2005

Posted on 04/14/2005
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