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Talking Like Walking in a Minefield

What I want to say
is different
From that which I’d like you to know.

So why bring it up?

Okay, I’ll bite, what the hell are you talking about.

Well, talking with you is like stepping through a mine field. An explosion is imminent, but I never know which word will set it off.

Frustration and resentment are the two emotions we have most in common lately.

I used to get lost in the gaze of your dilating pupils,
adrift, physicality defied, encapsulated – obsessed

Touch me, I’m butter on an Iowa summer picnic table.

I’m a feather in your palm, awaiting the warmth of breath sweetened by the journey through your sumptuous lips,

You were/are always ever only

foward and ago

That’s not what I wanted to say,
It’s what I need you to know.

ever only always was is

one. you.

used to. tomorrow.

can we?

dried paint chips desperate for rehydration

lost thoughts of a pale mind

greys, all grays

(sigh)

Posted in Daily Journal.


One Response

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  1. sandra fletcher says

    butter on an Iowa summer picnic table…wow…



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