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A slow breaking and mending
of blood and bone
fit for the poorest
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pour mourir; no less!

Mademoiselle
No one, to you,
do tell.
A dream,
perhaps a nightmare,
that died in your arms
much too long ago.


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Friday, November 28, 2008
This doesn't even cut it
Based on previous experience, I should be packed up and gone. I shouldn't be spacing out for hours, on end -I shouldn't be spacing out, ever. Based on past delusions..based on person after person, mistake after mistake. I should've been out of words and out of patience and out of your life, ages ago. "Ages", in my world; meaning, "a week."

Based on old rumors, you should have your sights set on someone new. You shouldn't have your arms around me so tightly -you should be on the loose and on the prowl. Based on past prejudice..based on cover up after cover up, lie after lie. You should've run out of motivation and out of promises and out on me, ages ago.

And yet, here I am..whirling away, selecting the most perfect words to say. And there we were; fingers, as always, laced, with your arms around my waist, my forehead against yours right when no one else could've been watching us break all our stupid personal rules.

And since (we're) breaking all the rules, anyway.. :) Haha! :)

The only thing left to figure out is..which one of us is the lion and which is the lamb?

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