Crumpling

Crumpling

You and I have never gone for forgiveness purely
for the sake of morality. And I am thankful. It's less
confusing this way. But God, we like writing, huh?

How many have I received from you? Hundreds?
Notes threatening everything -- murder to suicide.
Historically, you have had better subject matter.

So, of course, your stuff will be getting good reviews.
Now, I've just fashioned a bestselling little diatribe.
But, planning to leave it here, the walls become thin.

Between this and the next room, I hear a weeping.
Crumpling what I've written, I quietly move myself,
and at that doorway, resolve -- to never write again.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2009