Beware, it's something. Kind of lovely, kind of sad. I keep digging my heels into these sharp edges, hoping to turn up something new, something good, something worthwhile. So I push, but what comes of it? I squeeze my eyes shut in fear of rejection, if I don't see it happen it never really does. I think. The monotony might be killing me, the ground opens up wider and I'm struck with how much nothing I am surrounded by. Drowning in the shallow air, the words left unspoken, the solemn dead something or other between my lips and your mouth. I guess it's safe to say I don't mind it all the time, that I'm okay right now. I know things work out the way they weren't planned to, I never planned them to. I simply said what it was that I needed to, and now that we've gotten past that I think it's time to grow up. Blow away. Scatter seeds. And bury.
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