Her nail is broken again.

Perhaps it is from slipping.

When I see you I see the failure in my attempts at being patient. I shut my ears and pretend to hear while thoughts are at a stand still. No, go. Go, no. Please, go go no. A breath of silence in the air lingers before assuring words are spoken. “Not like that. I meant yes. I meant no.” Inhaling these weak words destroys a segment of your army. Filling that gap of who’s right and who’s wrong and therefore destroying all traces of battle. Yet, at the end of it all we count our loses; agonizing over the failed and misunderstood attempts to express. The excuses and refusals are dead inside us now. If they rise to life we risk releasing their haunting words from our lips as a means for revenge. It is as though they are stashed inside and waiting to catalyze the conversation into poison. Let’s forget this and move on until I find a way to penetrate you with my feelings of injustice.  Wait lover, for me.        i. I. mememe. I love you but I love me.

His belt is unbuckled.

Perhaps it is from sleeping.

When I see me I see the web of critiques you have spun through me over time. At first it was endearing, at second it was silly. At third, fourth, and fifth, I swallowed them whole. Now, we’ve reached 10 and I’m choking. Capture this isolated instance in your prism and release the array of distrust you feel for me. I felt your warmth yesterday, but today it poured out. Drenching everyone with selfishness and insecurity. I have an umbrella, a shelter, a safe haven. We rarely speak of it but you understand how it provides for me from heart to blood. Tomorrow is another day you say, but I know tomorrow doesn’t heal today. Tomorrow only allows time to slip in between us while we sleep. Then, in the morning we will feel the fog of yesterday and say to ourselves, “I don’t care.” Yes, it feels fine after spending long exhausted hours at the stake, ready to burn one another with resentment. However, it only prolongs the moment where the two are able to lay down their weapons of self pity and resort to a declaration of pure understanding.

 

Published by Anna Buck

"everything was beautiful and nothing hurt."

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