I might have been the only one who believed all of it you and me like blood our lives intertwined forever we were instead inane prone to rapid disintegration in the place of a broken memory carefully preserved painful precious there is nothing a nuisance a hairline fracture on a crystal pitcher dirty dishes piled in the kitchen sink what a waste loving you turned out to be
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8 comments:
I could be overthinking, but that does not seem a happy poem to me. hope you are both well and merely reflecting on a bad batch of OJ.
Hey, David!
We are super well. The poem is not related at all to us, of course. :)
We can't wait to hear news of a certain baby boy.
Glad to hear it's not related to you and Luca. You had me worried for a minte.
Nah. Luca is an integral part of me. :)
I freaked when I read this but apparently your blob-webbers got the same reaction. What's going on?
Um...what is a blob-webber?
An over-sized employee of Weber Shandwick? Is that insensitive?
LOL!!
And, yes. Terribly politically incorrect.
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