by Medusa
© 2002 B. Howard, all rights reserved
I wonder why you left those tracks,
Last time you left,
Right down my back.
Was it conspiracy or accident?
I hear a tread,
That seems hell bent.With a dark-eyed spell, and cocky grin,
A well-worn welcome,
To lay me at your feet again.
I look up to a profile,
I know too well,
That's deaf to my own heart's
Lonely wail.Like a sponge soaked with tears,
Your shocked eyes meet mine,
As we hear a soiled voice,
Say "Baby, not this time."
Too many yesterdays
Too complex to forget,
And I won't brush those footprints
From my heart just yet.
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