By Sandra, Xanii@aol.com

Every time,
I get like this,
I get the way I think you feel,
I get something like sick,
something like weak,
somewhere half way through my day.

I think I'm dying...

And some how,
when I close the bathroom stall
and think of you,
the white porcelain
makes me feel
better, for having taken the time
to feel my need for you.

I think I'm dying...

My mind still screams
every time I get that feeling,
every time I want you near.
Do you hear me,
I wonder...
You say you really care...
For now, all we have are words.

I think I'm dying...

My echoes always bounce back,
but I don't want to wonder any more.
All I need are your words
to make me feel intact
one more day,
one last time...

before I die...
from missing you...

2.23.97 sandra

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