Mr. Bouchard.

And now I’m waiting for the bus
Warding off the cold by remembering the night we didn’t have together
‘cause this is one “we”
that refuses to be

it’s not emptiness
it’s a need
planted by the little seed of touch
I loved you too little
I loved you too much

And now there’s nothing left
Not even the doubt
That kept me afloat
So I’ll shiver here
Without a sliver of clarity
Nor a wedge of confusion

Just that subtly maddening need.

by tearsofrain
posted on 05/12/2008