This is Just to Say

The way she was talking in her sleep
The delusions of grandeur which we keep
The hope they still hold, irrationally and inexcusably
The haze which now surrounds you
You aren't noticing, but I am

The memories we cherish
Which in reality hold deep secrets
The thin white film over his eyes
And the ball of cotton in your throat
You aren't noticing but I am

They said the water was so clear
But I could still see the bugs it contained
They said the dream was still alive
When I saw it crash and burn
You still aren't noticing
But I am


I wrote this poem last April and only now found it.  It's very depressing, so it obviously must have been written by me.  Okay, thats enough for one day. I'll go back to my decongestants.

Okay, now I'm done.