The sound of your voice 
painted on the backs of my hands.
the slope of your mouth 
etched into the moons of my eyes.

Tormented touch, withheld.
In feverish darkness, I stand.
Stronger than yesterday,
weaker than tomorrow.

Tomorrow...just another day,
where everything loses more meaning
just another day
where I care less.

Digital alarm clock, red numerals
crimson minutes drip onto the floor,
flourescent blood of days slain.
I'm just killing time waiting for you.

(c) 2001 by (++)Laura(++). All Rights Reserved