A Pale Scrawl
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Faint

8/2/2016

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Picture
Standing in the humid night air
Beneath the old growth walnut tree
We are talking
About nothing
And the security light switches itself off
Our motion too distant now for it to trigger and flood the scene with too much brightness
I cannot account for these feelings
The cold sweat and tunnel vision
Of my blood pressure dropping
Waiting for the trap door to go out from under me
I know what's coming
I should care so much less
But as you take my cold hand in your warm one
And silence my chatter with your lips
My vulnerabilities are on display
With nowhere left for me to conceal them
If I allow this
Will you crack them open
To exploit their tenderness
Or mend their fissures to strengthen me?
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