A smudge appears on the transcript of our history and in the now you seem to avoid the void from where we disconnected to our greetings today. A strange feeling creeps along the dashboard as we roll toward a nostalgic broom closet and allow low lighting to incubate what once was, what might be, and truly what was meddled with in the beginning. And all the while I teeter on the verge of amusement and sadness because I'm not sure where to look, where to focus.. for what is the purpose of all of this and I have far too many questions you would love to dodge. I let me eyes linger on the corner of your lips equally pissed and intrigued by what I want to do with them.
No comments:
Post a Comment