Friday, December 23, 2011
Life. It succeeds at every attempt to throw
itself at yourself. I remember now, initially
advocating that modicum of privacy.
A keeping of one's things to one's self, with
minimal reference to architectural theory.
You finally nodded to those partitions
the many hard walls I suggested best.
Forbidden grounds, protecting better ideas.
How I wish I was silent, that you had spoken
sooner. And I wish I had listened, earlier.
Along with the regret of thinking my secrets
the greater of us both, head in hands, I
need you now. I chased you away, revelation
leveling me. -- Come back, flawed woman.
The house of me cannot stand without you
holding the walls of my own unspoken past.
-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2011 --