Crime

When the days are cold.
And cards are all fold.
I want to hide the truth.
But with the feelings inside.
There's nowhere to hide.

I can't write a poem that's not about you.
You know that I hate to admit it.
That my timing is off and I'm missing you.
I'm good at keeping my distance.
I'm trying to move on, forget you, but I hold on.

It's the wrong time.
To be thinking of you.
It's the wrong kind of feeling.
It's a small crime.
I've got no excuse.

They say it's what you make.
I say it's up to fate.
Look into my eyes.
It's where my crimes hide.
It's that alright.