Earl Grey

You're always there 
Like a sad call that I 
Can never catch 
You slipped through my hands 
Too many times for me to 
Count 
Yet my heart is still 
Buried in your scared hands 
Like a puppet on a 
Marinate string
Dragging me through the 
Days as you sway in the 
Breeze
You've probably already 
Forgotten 
All those endless nights 
The phone calls 
The reality of it all 
That can never be taken back
Buried memories 
That I've locked away in the 
Back of my mind 
Only to become lines 
In the old and overly used 
Diary that I still keep...