| Anticrastination on a mild spring night |
[May. 2nd, 2007|10:52 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  bored | ] |
And as I sat here all night, my fingers slowly started to fall to pieces. One by one, they all crumbled to dust. Our relationship had gone sour months before.
I will miss my fingers. Surely, they were quite helpful.
Picking flowers.
Going up and down.
Pouring lemonade.
Feeling sweet release.
Encouraging him to go deeper.
Moving around the country.
Multitasking.
Clenching the sheets so tight.
Cleaning.
Dirtying.
Mystifying and extricating all on the same shebang.
Minding my own business.
Wondering where it went.
Flipping switches.
Baking soda.
Learning your history.
Mewling in vivid perception.
Yeah, they were good to me, alright. I saw them at Starbucks the other day, and I immediately thought of betrayal. But if I sit back and look at my life from the other side of the street, I'll realize that they're happier this way. And I'm glad. |
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