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19 August 2017 No Comment

Aug 2017

I wait for you to leave me,

Because the butter is on the third shelf.

It should have been on the 1st one, boy.

The first one.

There is a timeline…

‘Don’t ruin it with your sad, don’t destroy it with your extra’…I tell myself.

And my head makes up a list—

Of all the things that can and will go wrong between us—-

Murphy’s for lovers.

What will decide our fate?

The old story of good distance of oceans.

Or that we can’t surmount the differences in our toes and fingers?

Or will there be that exciting Frenchie served as distraction?

If Chris Pratt and Anna Faris cannot make it, what chance do we have?

This struggle is war- and there is so much pain waiting to be cried.

But you can tell I am prepared.

Fuzzy lines drawn-

Obscure barricades are up.

A barricade, exactly 900millimetre high, because I do want you to be able to climb over it,

I do want you to win.

We fit like a glove.

We are unlikely stars aligning.

Too good to be true—

We consume the other-

Throw in Oxytocin and it feels a lot like love —

To commit—

To be there.

To show up. Again & again.

But I don’t count on it.

Because I’m waiting for you to leave me.

This blood pumping muscle is plated-

With a scalpel, I cut into it- constantly—

To release the brine that sits at its edge.

This only means— I’ll be the one to break my heart.

Quick, this little pixie needs a fight— I need a fight…

So that insecurities, fears and flaws can take shape and form.

The butter just isn’t on the right shelf.


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