Monday, March 3, 2008

set out

Is this the price, she asked me. Must I stretch and find every curve just to find a place to rest and sob? How come I can not find the simple laughs like others? The blandness of my cover showed the holes. Where the stars peaked through I dared not whisper. My tears were not warm enough to keep her safe. I wanted to kiss and dared not speak. I did flutter, though. I could not mistake such eyes. I knew I was done as I stuttered something forgotten. How could I say something when the accounting of me was being hosed clean? As my tears of her crusted my pillow, I tried to remember why I had voice left at all. I drew one last memory of her lips, and set out to forget.

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