Moving conversation   Leave a comment

He said that he didn’t know where to go from here,
and the topic was fraught, and shouldn’t have been brought up.
And we both said, “No.”
It was not his fault that things grew out of proportion and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d until they touched the ceiling without tiptoes.
Truth is, I am short and you are short and we are short together, but not together in this.

And so I write, and I think about the last two days and where my mind is, stringing words together on screen without edit.

To place each.word.just.so is usually my way,
but not today.

Today I will let the words flow like the conversation – emphatic and strangely stressed.  Today, I will let the words carry me where they may, and not gather
rosebuds.

And when it’s time, I’ll crawl into the darkness beside you and nestle down, soft soft, and slip in     to    the   rhythm    of    your   breathing
and sleep.

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Posted August 14, 2014 by veggiewolf in Poetry, Storytelling

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