"I’m not drunk yet, but we haven’t
spoken in months now
and I wanted to tell you that
someone threw a bouquet of roses
in the trash bin on the corner of my
street, and I wanted to cry
you know exactly why.
And, I guess I’m calling because
only you understand
how that would break my heart."
"He looked at me like I was crazy. Most of my lovers do, and that’s partly why they love me, and partly why they leave."
Confused. Conflicted. I’m a mess:/
Uncertainty lingers. Heavy, thick like cumulous clouds, obscuring my vision, my idea of the ideal. Enclosed by love, I evade it. Alone, it fills me like water does a well. It fills me to the brink, heaving. Fist in my mouth, like a plug I try to stop it from spilling over. Ballooned, I drift, eluding sharp objects for fear of the water manifesting itself, for all to see, for all to question.