Sunday, November 7, 2010

...But I'm Not Bitter

I could tear her down from that tightrope leading to the gator's belly or rip apart the curtains shielding gorgeous noon. Galaxies birth, die by minutes and the oceans have dried to featureless canyons. They seemed to have dissolved on those nights I never got to speak (countless words never uttered.) Friendship teeters like a snow globe balanced on a needle during an earthquake. Can she pinpoint when all the playful nudges and kisses become fatal domination and control? His love runs on sugar in the gas tank but all she can feel is the sweet taste before ignition. A million insomniac wars and suicide mornings could be avoided if I still gave a damn. It's not even worth an “I told you so!”

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