Tuesday, October 8, 2013

More fiction? I'm not sure what these notes are for but here they are

I don't want to slash open the wound, dig the knife in, and cut to the bone. I can't offer anything more than what I offered before. That's why I stay away, why you haven't heard from me.

You always stood waiting for me in the lamplight in the middle of the street. I'd crawl out of the nearest alleyway or round a corner and try not to run to you. I wanted to run to you, but I had to play it cool. 

You would grab me up and hold me so tight and kiss me deeply, passionately. I always slipped away too fast for you--you wanted to savor the embrace (it was all that you ever had.) I wanted to move away, out of sight, out of the lamplight, under cover(s) away from eyes that would know me. 


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