Thursday, June 29, 2006


What I cannot forget from seven hours ago are the words that were uttered.

Do you know how it feels to teeter on the brink of vertigo?

Do you know what terror I felt during that brief inquisition?

Or the same terror I felt when I held my breathe in this infinitesimal second before you blurted out the words to validate the uncertainty of what I was holding dear for the past four months?

No. I didn't think I was being unfair.

So I asked you to leave so you can contemplate if you will come back.

I'd said I'd wait.

I see my nails turning purple from the cold.

I see the color of heartbreak and regret.

I see you, no, I feel you slipping through my fingers like red silk ribbons clumped at one's feet cluttered with crumpled and discarded giftwrapping papers.


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