If I could fathom the wires of thoughts and put them down on paper in a sequence rather logical and frustrating I could give you an indication of the odds.
But while I'm standing still there's cars driving by and there's leaves still fluttering and there's bands making music and there's this girl on the corner.
And she looked at me as if to say there's no time for that, my friend, blink and you miss it. And then she was gone.
The longer I stand here the further away you get and it's fair to say you're just as still as I am.
Decisions and clocks and timetables are what I thought you all wanted to hear and I wrote them and made them as if to prove a point. That if I could meet a deadline on a piece of paper then I knew I was good enough and I knew we would make it.
And the beauty of this is our refusal to believe we can fail and it's ironic figuring I felt you break me the first time round. But that was a few scars ago now, I'm shivering from the cold and wet and I've got damp dripping from my ears. I could use something to catch it but it will get full and then I could get another one but after that I'm all out.
You drain me and I need to run away and get as far as I can on my own. But with all these crossed wires and broken lines it seems easier with a hand to hold just because my mind told me so and it's always been right before.
Realising I don't love you was never going to be easy. I just never expected it to be so sudden and poignant and oppressive.
I'll see this through for just as long as I can fake it.
