pulled back from the throat

one more wasted effort in the morning, a doused fire from behind you: i keep trying to put you into paraphrases and empty the closet that holds memories of you, your voice, you. i keep finding waterholes dried up, long nights, a row of fingers tapping at the phone, trying to reach out to you, but pulled back.

glad you're having fun.

2004-09-05 | 3:15 p.m.
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