i don't know how it happened,
but i started deleting things that
mattered to me. memories and
pictures and thoughts and love.
somehow, i stopped wanting to
care. now i just think it would be
better if i cut my losses and stopped
slipping up half the time. i am betwixt
and between, i am one foot in the door
and the other out. i am every contradictory
word and these sentences will just keep getting
longer and longer until somebody notices that i am frantic.
what disgusting gentle smiles; what kind intentions; what very honest
appreciations of person, and it doesn't matter one bit. i feel as if i have been
cheated of knowing something; as if i am in one of those dreams where i cannot
scream yet my vocal chords are snapping. well how kind of everyone to quietly suggest something and expect me to understand silence and side-ways glances.
i will climb buildings and view the city lights, i will walk through crowded streets and i will laugh at awkward gestures. i will say that yes, i am coming