Wicked Games

What a wicked game to play
To make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do
To let me dream of you
What a wicked thing to say
You never felt this way
What a wicked thing you do
To make me dream of you

- Chris Isaac

In the end…

I missed you.
I miss you too.
You still don’t listen.
You have stopped listening.
Doesn’t matter.
Doesn’t matter?
Didn’t matter!
Does matter.
To you.
To you too.
You wish!
I do.
It doesn’t
It does.
Not anymore.
But not any less.
Always late
I thought you would wait.
I didn’t.
I wish you had

Run

I run away from you only to run into you.

Hope

He convinced himself
she would never reply
Probably read his mail
and close it with a sigh.
So he went and pretended
to squander his heart
In their masked charades
he played his part
Pretending love was
always an easy game
The lines to be used
were always the same
But somewhere deep
he hid her image
Fading neither with time
nor with age
Believing someday
he would meet her again
Feel her warmth
after years of cold wet rain