walking after midnight

It’s a dangerous time of night, and I’m in a dangerous mood.

opening doors better left shut, picking scabs

off old wounds, writing letters I know better than to send.

 

I nearly wrote one of them here, but caution

(or convention) tells me not to rock the boat,

and so CRTL-A-Del has done its work. No fear —

I’ll swallow the confusion one more time

(ignore that even after all these years, it stings

going down), and I’ll be good.

 

No unpleasant scenes, I promise. I’ll not ask

you to remember why you hated me,

or worse, to know if you still do.

I’ll be good.

 

But still that rebel murmur in my ear

wonders what could have been, what still could be.

How much water flows beneath a bridge in seven years?

Love trumps pride, and here’s the thing:

 

I miss my friend.

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3 Comments

  1. krishyana said,

    May 9, 2008 at 8:41 am

    *hugs* for you 🙂

  2. freundlyfolk said,

    May 9, 2008 at 3:21 pm

    yar
    *HUG*

  3. perhapsody said,

    May 9, 2008 at 4:05 pm

    🙂

    *HUGS*


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