How many times
Have I not said to myself
'It doesn't matter'.
And I've brushed away
Your memories?
The songs I've skipped .
The pics I've deleted.
To restrain myself from
Not looking at that turn
We had met.
How many times have I not
Died a thousand times?
Taking shortcuts.
Searching new routes.
And I don't know
How many times
Should I have to squeeze
My beat-box, let it lay out
To dry; before I let you go?
To vent a careless sigh
To tell myself, it's over.
I don't know what's
A thing, most hopeless.
But I think, convincing
Yourself a lie when you,
Already know the truth,
Is one of them and
I'm caught up in it.
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