You dropped me with two little words. Happy Holidays. What the fuck kind of thing is that to say? I love my men instantaneously.
And am always surprised when the two of us, “us,” combust spontaneously internally how could this happen to me how could he/you not love me why am I powerless to stop myself or him or you.
It’s not meant to be a dig I’m sure
It just does
Deep down
Disrupting fragile roots
Severing some, severely damaging others
Nonessentials are left unharmed
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December 24, 2008 at 5:17 pm
poeticgrin
The word dig has a gutteral harshness to it.
The images of spontaneously combusting is so spot on here…
Happy Holidays turned into a kiss off – a slight – a Dear John letter – a fuck you, if you will. A cold “Happy Holidays” four days or so before the Holiday itself – implying I don’t expect to talk to you between then and now.
Eyes narrowed.