alphabeta fish girl

Oh right away I was lower-cased, because of prior dates, because of shared play-mates. There was something in her timbre when she said my name that’s probably most to blame, that made me speculate that you would look good with Bowie in vinyl on the background, eyes closed as you blow me if only you’d allow me to intrude on your conscious like I tried to much too often. Cover blown, plot uncovered. Hashbrowns scattered topped and smothered. One could argue also traces still exist, and solid cases could be made with even less emphasis on what may have happened versus how it felt – the passion. That’s one theory, but I don’t buy it. It’d be nicer, I won’t lie but the truth is probably somewhere closer to you being rare – rare like a flawless sapphire, a special in a foreign aisle. And I was something less than random, a dog with a bone that was thrown from a hand that was tired of my begging. Oh there must be something I’m forgetting, some painfully obvious overlooked sign that I couldn’t see because I read each line too closely to follow the chapters along. I am lower-cased but I hope I am wrong.


~ by perfectionatrix on March 16, 2010.

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