Big

I saw your picture yesterday beside the bus stop.  It was hanging in the air beside my ordinary thoughts that trickled down like the raindrops that used to fall along the side of our old house, the place that we used to call home. And things became so cold so quickly, stumbled slowly washing neatly away with the rain. I wanted to come over yesterday and tell you I was just so sorry so sorry I could die.  But you were standing by the door and I saw your hands, your feet ,the floor and I just whispered please don’t pass me by, I promise that was my last big small lie.

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Drawing a Blank

A Short Conversation is a collection of stories, thoughts, and general musing. I like to write like I'm slamming a door; loudly, and with purpose.

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