By Dreamsome
Date: 1 September 2000

I'm Tired

I want you to grow old with me
Your mind to catch up to me
As I am becoming increasingly weary
of writing poems to you.
The poems have discolored my life
I'm tired of not knowing what you think
I'm tired of men who have the same name
as you, they don't know that I'm tired
of them too.
I'm tired of the telephone
of starring at its beige lips telling
me they love me...you don't.
You're a distant echo in my ear
I don't want my poems to wear out
anyone else again.
I don't want to die and have this
pen at my bedside holding my hand
draping me with its affectionate 
black ink, wondering whom will write
with it when I am gone, wondering
if my soul has finally forgiven.