Sunday, February 20, 2011

The only thing in the world

I want to hold you. Hold you, promise you, keep you.
Exactly the way you manage to keep me.

And there are so many words I have heard, fit for this place we're in. Except those words were used like knives, like bullets, like bits of myself breaking apart and thrown back at me.

Sometimes when I find a word, a word I'd like to wrap up and give you,
Shadows catch me by the wrist, twisting my arm behind me. And I am falling-
Pushed to the ground by the sheer weight of all the double-meanings lined in all these words.

How do I say words that I wouldn't believe if someone told them to me?
Then I run myself into a brick wall until I can't distinguish one type of pain from the other.
Still. I'm left with words and what I want them to mean. And what I want them to mean to you.

And what I don't want them to stop meaning to me.

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