Timing

My room is a mess
Clothes are strewn
Papers are piling
Is this what you wanted
Me a mess and turned about
But you were wrong
I sometimes like a clean space
I work better think clearer
Oh, I see you now…less
Not as strong or sincere
I was fighting too hard
To make you the one for me
Hundreds of phone calls
Hoping I’d catch you sober
I hate being alone & it seemed
So perfectly logical
The idea
You-a dream becoming
Then, your voice is off mark a bit
And the moment has passed
Is it forever gone?

4-20-99