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please be careful with my metaphors.

I’ve been trying to rearrange letters to make sounds that unfortunately don’t translate into anything meaningful and I’ve been drawing out diagrams to display the small fraction of insight that my heart has decided to be generous with I am as in the dark as you are I don’t have answers, just apologies. I know that are two sides to this and just like my hand I know one is rough, and will bruise and punch but the other a my softer and will always try to make up for the regretful but nonetheless truthful company she has the other will nurture, and point to the quiet things. and maybe that’s not enough I know you still want both sides connected a full circle around them each, encasing them to you in a ring. but I think the main problem is that you don’t make me feel free. I’m sorry. I’m sorry like a school teacher who has to lie through old dingy frames and slowly break a dream to a young man because you’re right, that’s life and feelings aren’t choices, they aren’t light-switches and I can’t turn this off but I think maybe I could be like a star, maybe I can’t comfort but I can be around anyway. maybe that’s not what you need and that’s what makes me sorry. does it matter that I’m sorry?
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Written by
dilectus
Published
Oct 13, 2013
Lines·Words
25·229
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