…just run


run from the words that are hanging around the kitchen corner with the lights off at 4 am with cartoons and little voices beyond the yelling and the rest

run from the memories of those days when you were that little boy waking up in his room not knowing if he should come out


run because you can’t hide or smile and shrug and pretend to forgive and forget

no, not that


run to the love and those places between the letters and stories where there was
nothing but her love and the promise of better days and pale blue and blonde curls and all the inescapable girlish inexpressiveness
nothing but that

where are you?


This entry was published on January 23, 2013 at 6:03 pm. It’s filed under Life, Love, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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