Saturday, June 26, 2010

Like a Good Serial Killer Would

he wrote a book for her

she couldn't read it the wurds were smeared. with

sweat

tears

blood

And years.





time passes. your life happens. and you wonder.

what if?



if the mountain climbs and the log cabins. if the fireworks and the

shooting stars.

had been real. had been with him.



could she read his book then? would the wurds sizzle on the page

catching fire

then exploding with their meaning ~

meant for her eyes. maybe then she would know.

and the memories would change. and the pain would stay the same. because she

can never be satisfied.



she'd rather he'd written her a song.