Monday, September 7, 2009

Insignificant Contributer

"The Fear I Get in Your Arms"

He was kind, offered her a place to stay, poured her a glass of red wine and let her choose the music.

She spoke too fast about a story she had written on white pieces of paper to hang on her walls, that now she couldn't get the paint brush clean and she didn't know how she could be related to her mother cause her mother was so perfect and she was so not.

He didn't need white paper cause he just painted on the walls and left school when he was 12 to travel the world.

She thought her heart was beating too fast,

He told her to put his hand over her heart so he could confirm.

They were both strange, but at least her words made sense.

She thought one of them had to exercise tough love so she turned to face the other way while the base of his brain burned and neither of them could sleep.

This is the story of what could never be, the story of you and me.

Written on the final pages of December, I hope you remember...

x. D

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