Saturday, December 5, 2009

The Clandestine Killed Comfort

i stand in the shower, away. the water hitting me and running down my face. it feels like the rest of my life i could stand there and not know the difference. of course you're on my mind, but it feels much better thinking about you when i'm naked. halfway there. and as the water cascades and descends i can't help but weigh the efforts of our failed relationship. it's all become the past quickly, almost overnight. but i'd rather not leave this space where beauty and heat collide and create an effect that reminds me of our early days together. when they didn't know any better, and we were just relaxing the tensions between us. all the grandiose reasons we gave for trying too hard, and making things more wonderful than we ever knew was possible. an exploratory adventure, we drained it of all it's worth and then left it. and you created the image of an overflowing willingness to heed, and i just took advantage. the fog settles my nerves and i stop thinking about us because clarity isn't the only thing available to score the happenings of all this.

i used to put names on all my failures, now i just place numbers.

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