I wonder were you really there?
Maybe you were just the mist.
Do I dance with myself in a room?
Am I a fog?
I took a bite of my lip
And now all I partake tastes of blood.
I need a doctor,
Who can analyze my random blips on the radar.
There is still the crunch of rocks in my mouth.
Still fighting with them so not to bite my lip again.
Because it is hard to say that you're a half dreamed memory.
One I built from the ground up with clay, sticks, and bones.
Finally the rain came.
You melted into the soil.
And I still drink from the puddles.
