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cbrown
You say “I love you.” “Stop that,” I say. It’s too new. It’s too soon. It’s too... Stop loving me. It won’t last. It won’t work. It won’t... Brush it off, Make light, Spin it, Play it off, Watch me twist and duck and dodge your attempts, A moving target, But your aim is improving And my resolve is fading, And if you persist, I fear I shall falter, And let you win, Let you claim victory, Let you covet your prize, Let you love me. Yes, let. I could keep going, Pushing myself farther away, sprinting I could continue to bob and weave and strategically strike to evade. I could continue. But why? Why when I am so tired I could collapse, want to collapse, into you and just stop. Mind, body, soul. Let it go. Give up the fight, Resolve. I’ve been in defense so long I don’t even know how my body would react. Would I lose my spark? Lose my fight? Cease to exist altogether? Would I regret... No. No regrets. Only realization. Epiphany. Reformation of regulations, Reconstruction of boundaries left to fade, Preparing myself for battle once again Focusing on the fight, Zeroing in on the target. I am the target.
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Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 10:22 PM UTC
Stop.
It’s here. I’ve been waiting and watching in the distance. Anticipation. As the clouds persist, the sky breaks. Slow at first and then unforgiving in its downpour. The air changes. Senses heighten as the greenery becomes so vibrant against gray skies. You can taste and smell its life in the air. Trees stand resolute in the reckless abandon of the sky. As she cleanses herself of the sorrows of this world, bellowing and sobbing and shrieking, bearing the burdens of all, unable to look away. So she cleanses all. Redemption in the rapture.
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Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 8:22 PM UTC
Downpour