Rise
(25 January 1999)
1999 by Kristi Martel


The sun is rising
and I'm eyeing you
as you sleep restlessly next to me.

We've got this great big bed,
and we both know how to give great head,
but we're doing it entirely too soon.

Sometimes you see your life like a speeding train,
and you think you can beat it like Superman,
but you ain't even Wonderwoman. (You don't know the way.)

I know you can't hear me.
There's an earplug in each ear,
because you wake with each and every sound you hear.

Sometimes those plugs move to your eyes in the day.
You're wearing blinders again, I'll say.
And I'll be pantomiming walking blind when I'm talking about you.

But the sun is rising,
and I'm still not sleeping,
because I love you more than anyone, and I hate being used.

You seem to hear that thought.
You wake; you say you know why I'm up.
You reach out to hold me.
I want this moment's love to make everything else okay.

But I know now that you're crazy.
You're dealing us a really bad hand,
because you want me more than you've ever wanted anyone
but you don't understand love.

You want me right here and now.
You want me to disappear.
You want me chained to you.
You want me invisible too.

And I
wanted something more than this pit of pain in my gut.
And I
want something simpler and sweeter
than the voice in my head telling you to shut up.

And I
know as you're holding me now
that you are not the one
who can love me well enough
to let me cry these tears.

So I
keep not sleeping.
And you keep sleeping restlessly.
And your eyes and ears hurt when you wake.
And when I rise I'm really really really tired.

Goodbye, love.
Don't come back this time.
Goodbye, love.
Don't come back unless you know you want to be mine.
Goodbye, love.
Don't come back at all.
Goodbye, love.
Maybe someday you'll know how to fall in love.



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