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People are cruel, and so are writers when they retalliate. |
| He smiles dressed in manners dressed casual in slacks standing five foot nothing within arms reach of you looking beautiful without makeup noticing that we are sharing glances not words speaking only under the conditions of cell phone text and computer I.M.'s under screen names and dial tones supposedly friends seeing something in one another and with our eyes closed we give second chances third chances and so on never letting go become an option stay brave for a day with options halting at a standstill save face for a day saying you dont want to lose me beaming towards a mirror feeling sorry for yourself in the event it shatters keeping your back to me at all times unimposed drowning your few words with a lump in your throat speaking only in apology which is a fancy word for bullshit which is an artful look at manipulation a spectacle for the phony your with looking on you as you tear me to pieces and throw me to the wind expecting me to always blow back to you how depressing how elementary but hey... thats you. |