trying my best to forget you
washing my thoughts clean
not remembering the memories
blocking the sun from fertilized seeds
been looking for a place to put it
to sore the white waves of your cream
been badgering the one who took it
who ripped the thread from the seems
the seem, it seems,
i'm not seeing your love
in all these different bodies
in the patient beak of the dove
the wasn't the intention of love
to wear the dirty glove
to claw, slash and shred up
to split open and tug
i have been looking for place to put it
to store the white tops of your cream
been badgering the one who took it
who tore the air from the seems
