Thursday, January 27, 2011

Yulan.

I'd rather it be a march then a walk
to the place where we would go
with the coming and going of each season.
I'd like nothing more than to get in my car
and finally set course.
Invade and impose.

I'd rather you admit it to it
and meet me half way
but how could I expect anything anymore
and how could I expect you to be anything less of predictable.

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