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Desperation
19 September, 2002
Author: Pamela O'Brien

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It's 11:30 at night,
And I've decided I want to go for a walk,
But I'm afraid I'll end up on your doorstep,
Asking you if you wanna talk.
I drove past your house on my way home earlier,
I know that you are there,
I saw your car sitting in the driveway,
And I got a little scared.
I sometimes think it would be so easy,
To just say the magic words,
Ask you to be mine again,
Tell you that it hurts.....
But it's 11:30 at night,
And I'm tired from thinking about taking a walk,
And how I might end up on your doorstep,
And be too afraid to talk.

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Comments on this poem/writing:

luc (12.84.4.187) -- Tuesday, October 1 2002, 12:27 am

no title

had those same feelings before. like the way you said it all. wondrful poem
barb (206.191.91.87) -- Tuesday, October 1 2002, 08:44 pm

memories

Been there Pam.I found the not knowing what would happen bothered and ate me up inside.So I satisfied my curiousity. Didn't work out but at least I knew no more wondering. Of course I'm a glutton for punishment.Ha:) Time does heal all.
Pamela (199.216.176.5) -- Wednesday, October 2 2002, 12:10 am

Funny how....

It's funny how I can say anything to anybody except the one thing I want to say to one person. It always brings a smile to my face when someone says they can relate :o)
roy (205.188.208.11) -- Friday, October 11 2002, 11:06 am

now i gonna get a frown

what i have seen for many years tears me apart--feeling the anger from within--MEN-you heartless wonders--physically we have something in common--but how can the blood flow without a heart?
 
Name:                                           Remember Me

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