It's getting harder to distract myself and to convince myself that there's a storm on the horizon. It's sitting on a sunny beach, looking out at the horizon and seeing full gray clouds, but assuming that they had already passed over my sunny place before I reached it. In fact, they're moving away quicker now, quicker now...right?
Someones fist is clenching my heart and squeezing, and then there's another someone cupping it ever so gently, almost protecting it-guarding it with fierce subtly. I ask myself how could I? in a manner of different endings: how could I not? how could I think this is possible? how could I even try? I can't take all the blame in being ten steps ahead of the crowd- or just the one. If my heart gets ripped from the hollow cavity in my chest I guess that's going to be the hit and run of a two person bandit. We are a bandit.
The sad thing is that I willingly offer it all up on a silver platter and expect that and more back in return, when in reality, I know that all I'll get back is a clay bowl of scalding hot soup dumped down my front. It's not imaginary, it's just excelled to someplace high in the clouds and the other person missed the flight- or did they?
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