Winter on a Beach

I won’t last the winter – I will splinter into a thousand pieces, embarrass myself at your feet with pleas for you to still love me the way you said you did because I only kid myself until it gets too sad to drink. You were an infectious pattern in the programs of my thinking – I’m naive enough to dream of people who do behave well and if you want to know how I really feel then the answer is like hell but I swear you make me feel better oh you make myself better and I think of you whenever I do anything at all. And that’s my fault and when you call (or text) to say that you’re not coming I expect I’ll get that tingling, sickly feeling in my stomach only you produce. I will lose, and I know this. I think that makes it tragic. You will sail into the sunset and I will tell my friends I lack a soul or heart or something daring (this from back when you were sharing kisses like they’d never end). I forget myself when I think you ever would’ve had me all these years and all the rest and now I feel so silly to think that your panting chest could have been mine forever.


~ by perfectionatrix on January 19, 2013.

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