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The first night God created was too weak; it fell down on it's back, a woman in a cobalt blue dress. I was that woman and I didn't die. I lived for you, but you don't care. You're drunk again, turned inward as always. Nobody has trouble like I do, you tell me, unzipping your pants to show me the scar on your thigh, where the train sliced into you when you were ten. You talk about it with wonder and self-contempt, because you didn't die and you think you deserved to. When I kneel to touch it, you just stand there with your eyes closed, your pants and underwear bunched at your ankles. I slide my hand up your thigh to the scar and you shiver and grab me by the hair. We kiss, we sink to the floor, but we never touch it, we just go on and on tumbling through space like two bits of stardust that shed no light, until it's finished, our descent, our falling in place. We sit up. Nothing's different, nothing. Is it love, is it friendship that pins us down, until we give in, then rise defeated once more to reenter the sanctuary of our seperate lives? Sober now, you dress, then sit watching me go throught the motions of reconstruction-- reddening checks, eyeshadowing eyelids, sticking bobbypins here and there. We kiss outside and you walk off, arm in arm with your demon. So I've come through the ordeal of loving once again, sane, whole, wise, I think as I watch you, and when you turn back, I see in your eyes acceptance, resignation, certainty that we must collide from time to time. Yes. Yes, I meant goodbye when I said it.
Floorboard Confessions
Fletcher Jane Smith
Think Dreaming
When I think, I tend to dream. I can see you in my mind with your Arms opened wide - our hearts pounding harder as I walk closer. Can you feel my blood boiling the closer our bodies touch... your hand on my thigh as I grind, pulsating as if it is morse code for TAKE ME NOW In your eyes – even when you turn away I can hear it in your voice everytime you speak my name. To give in is wrong, but is dreaming about it any less of a crime? You fight my feelings and yours mean nothing? You say you’ll think about it, as if you weren’t all along. I know you do – distance is no barrier when the energy is rapidly beating – Fate will allow no exit other than completion – Can you take that with you to the end? Forever dreaming about one last dance. ~Missey Thibodeau
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