Pulled two ways.

Feel the back and forth lolling.

Pull it two ways

watch it stretch from wall to wall

and spread it thin.

yourself covering the space like a table cloth

yet smashing into yourself

because at times you let go.


Who’s really pulling?

Is it you pulling away or me pulling in?

Are we still both going the same way?

Is it me pulling away and you following?

Sometimes it’s hard to know where it’s tugging.

So I sit, scratch, sniff, sit think sit scratch, pick, rip. Ow, oops.

So I sit and wait and try to think of something to say because what’s on my mind is always love. Why I search and want love more than anything, and when I have it, than I’m crazy with it and can’t think of anything else, but it tames me. Before I have it my mind is in a dishevel, but how beautiful sometimes the grotesque is. That is love to me. Grotesque because who acts beautiful in love, but it is more beautiful than anything.

So I sit and think and pick as I obsess over scenes and conversations in my head about the what was and could and should be.

Take a moment to pause and pick before realizing that I should stop because people are watching. They are always watching and I know it, and you know it, but we forget about it and think no one is really watching anymore.

Always repeating until it happens and than replaying.

In my head when I’m with you, I think About how I love you all night long so that sometimes I can’t fall asleep.

But always going back to the picking because there is something that is satisfying about pulling a piece of skin off even though it hurts sometimes.


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