Sunday, March 29, 2009

Waste

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

Photo: www.potterybarn.com


8 comments:

David said...

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.

Dushka said...

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.

rhona said...

Glad to hear it's not related to you and Luca. You had me worried for a minte.

Dushka said...

Nah. Luca is an integral part of me. :)

Anonymous said...

I freaked when I read this but apparently your blob-webbers got the same reaction. What's going on?

Dushka said...

Um...what is a blob-webber?

David said...

An over-sized employee of Weber Shandwick? Is that insensitive?

Dushka said...

LOL!!
And, yes. Terribly politically incorrect.