Dear Diary . . . day by day

Mail is welcome.

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Monday, April 10th, - No Focus, All Blurry
Can't seem to see
you.

Coming down out of the air
I had high hopes
Maybe I'd be over you, hey.
Maybe I'd be free from you
Maybe I'd be free

I was hoping at least
I wouldn't care as much
What or Who
You'd be just another guy
- too quiet, self-centered
oh, so gloriously full of faults
a girl trying to get over you,
a girl like that couldn't ask
for more
(though fewer good points
would help a lot, thanks).

But no.

Baby, you fill me up
like wet cement
and
I'm just lugging it along
not quite
not aloft yet,
waiting to see what
position I'm in
when it dries.

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