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July 21, 2010
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Curses Flow,
But Not The Kind That Come From Sailors’ Mouths
Out On The Ocean.
It's The Type That The Bitter Ones Emit In Moments Of Weakness.
As If Those Words,
As If Avoidance,
Could Ever Fix
The Way You Feel
When Something Throws You Back
To That Moment In Time,
Happy On The Surface,
Crushing In Reflection.
So You Are Torn.
We Are Torn.
Be Happy In What Was,
Or Dwell On What Isn't Anymore?
So You Make A Decision,
To Not Make A Decision.
You Make A Decision To Just Be
Numb.
Nothing.
Fine,
Just Exist
Here.
Here Where You Belong.
Here.
With Me.





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