On Committment

August 13, 2013 § Leave a comment

All that wine she’d drink when she’d
release to him those entities of thought.
She said he never did say much. He never really blinked, or breathed.
Crafted confessions, epiphanies like blobs walloping his surface, returning with nothing but less give. She said after 13 years,
it was likely she’d never speak again.


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