January 22, 2011

I can't.

I'd like a cup of coffee
spilling over the sides
served in a blue ceramic mug
perfectly cracked (like me)
but without a piece
to get caught in the bottom (sharp edges)
to cut me deep down
because that damage has already been done.

I know I can't.
But you've got me on a strand. 
A puppeteer on my heart- with each little tug
I'm drawn towards you.
And I want it to stop.

I can't focus on the words in front of me.
They progress across the page
tiny letters marching in a line...back and forth (seesaw)
My eyes blur and tears splash to form
black puddles from mascara and printer ink.

I can't right now.
its a guarded thing (what I should be doing)
but magnets -
South, & me.

I want me only...
with my coffee and pity parties
and my tiny fractures to remain empty.
But you filled them
and I want to resist you
but I can't (I can't, I can't )

I just can't.

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