Wednesday, March 3, 2010

"Infinito," he says quietly, "go fuck yourself" she whispers back

Because the magic was never in the bloody clay, or in the person who made it.
There wasn't any magic to begin with, in fact.

And I think, when it comes down to it, all we really need is a large cup of honesty.
Not watered down, not taken with a dash of sugar.
Just that, and the bitter residue it might leave on your tongue.

Because at least after that,
you can choose to get up and walk away.

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