Not that she was a sadist, or hankered after being lonesome. Not that she was aroused by anger. It was more of the fact that she found it all ridiculous, these rites of passage for the mute and the eternally dumbstruck- the tiptoeing, secret handshakes, letters sent on the sly. Because she was curious, she could understand the logic behind omissions. What drew her to him was his inability to be farcical. For her, it was harder to break- this honesty, this total lack of regard for acknowledging sacredness. In his hand he holds poison that he never hides. No, he was not like the others. He liked holding it out, displaying his intentions. She sees this as more potent, more damagingly addictive, like the pungent smell of earth after the rain. A field of daffodils, yellow and bursting with strange revelation. Always, there was the promise of bloodshed, of bared wrists.
He tells her, all this is not about you My stories my poetry Some days, I write her letters She responds and it makes me lose my mind for a time I cry when she says she remembers me when she eats cold noodles You know she is in Korea studying I tell her about you She is not pleased Oh yes you are a likely substitute The slant of your neck when you bend down to tie your laces reminds me of hers Your eyes are hers teeth mouth candy ears But here it is, my hand over yours, however you would like to take it I'd like to think my heart is a carrot I will not pity you when I turn my back and say I don't know if I'll ever see you again Parting is never romantic It makes you feel oddly like snow written on then eventually smoothed over to make room for a new writer I will never omit never die for you never ever ever
When he gets this way, his hand brushes against hers. He says how's this for romance the moon you and overpriced coffee Love like everything else is a marketing tool. She smiles. This is the most love she's had in years.
He tells her, all this is not about you My stories my poetry Some days, I write her letters She responds and it makes me lose my mind for a time I cry when she says she remembers me when she eats cold noodles You know she is in Korea studying I tell her about you She is not pleased Oh yes you are a likely substitute The slant of your neck when you bend down to tie your laces reminds me of hers Your eyes are hers teeth mouth candy ears But here it is, my hand over yours, however you would like to take it I'd like to think my heart is a carrot I will not pity you when I turn my back and say I don't know if I'll ever see you again Parting is never romantic It makes you feel oddly like snow written on then eventually smoothed over to make room for a new writer I will never omit never die for you never ever ever
When he gets this way, his hand brushes against hers. He says how's this for romance the moon you and overpriced coffee Love like everything else is a marketing tool. She smiles. This is the most love she's had in years.
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