Saturday, December 27, 2014

forty-one

It’s a special kind of cruelty, ya know: to look into my eyes, cradle my trembling face in your hands, and say you care, and in the same breathe say you want to explore. Explore, baby, explore. Search every cobble-stoned brewery and every ill-lit sports bar. Search over a hundred beers, search under a thousand skirts. I care about you too, love, but I need to care about me more. So when I crawl out of this bed tomorrow morning please spare me the feigned hurt. There’ll be a warm body here soon enough, it just won’t be mine. 

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