Precipice

December 23, 2011

The first words were out of fear
What else could I do?
The paragraphs formed in anger
The pen bled regrets
It was full of trivial things
Make this old joke one last time
Had to do it, had to get the roiling feelings out
Say that it was no one's fault
Looked around and had to tell them
It isn't you I want to leave
But then I stood up, I still don't know why
And he picked up the notebook, read every word
I screamed and hit and fell apart
'How could you tell anyone?'
I said I hate you, but it was a lie.
All I hated. . . was what I couldn't break out of.
I said I hate you, but that was a lie.
The truth is. . .
I thank you


The author's comments:
We don't talk about that day anymore, but in my mind at least, it's changed us.

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