If time is what she needs, let her take her time, but keep her fingers far from mine. Try an altered speed, all armed with bitter will, but time is all she has to kill. I realize it's late to realize a mistake halfway through the wedding cake, but there's nothing to debate, it was something close to love, it just wasn't close enough. Time is what she needs, cause unlike wine and beer, it'll fade what now seems near. So try an altered speed, I know it takes a while, but every timeline hides a smile. She sat by the side of the road with her lips twitching and a heavy load, a sunrise over the library slope, it's early, too early to abandon hope that it's something more than that, it's more than just a supplement to sunshine: Those lips in an upwards curl might just be a certain sign. And time is what she needs...
