“In your light I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest
where no-one sees you, but
sometimes I do, and
that sight becomes this art.”
― Rumi

Thursday, October 12, 2006

who's this then?

me: I love her
him: are you sure?
me: of course I am sure
him: but then what about HER?
me: who's that then?
him: you know HER, I am sure
me: oh, HER, yeah well, you know how things are
him: well, maybe you should tell me
me: there is nothing to say
him: but you do think about HER
me: so what, it is silly
him: well...
me: and you know I love her
him: well, she certainly loves you
me: who, HER?
him: ha, you are so predictable, jumping to conclusions again
me: oh, you meant her?
him: what do you think?
me: well I know I love her
him: do you think she loves you?
me: don't play games with me
him: what do you mean?
me: well, why can't you say what you mean?
him: which is...
me: do you mean she or SHE?
him: does it matter?
me: how would I know?
him: well, it's your feelings
me: don't muck around with me...
him: don't worry, you are all mucked up as it is
me: well, I know she loves me and I love her
him: ...
me: well...
him: what?
me: are you not going to judge me? do you not have to slip your forked tongue in between my lines and taste the undercurrent of desire and guilt, you slimy ...
him: wow, someone's upset
me: and you know why
him: maybe, but do you?
me: what do you mean?
him: go figure

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