killed by kindness

if i don't start again you won't know i started this then.

started this before, started this at all.

coupled with my curious fascination with the unenviable, i have a penchant for the unknowable.

it looks like this:

a reputation for drama & how many is too many?

i am tucked into bed with a book the right way up in my hands, and a hard day under my mattress.

it looks like this:

meandbooktherightwayupinmyhandsonthemattress.
niggling.

you call me on your way over and this is how the conversation never unfolds:

"i cried today, today i cried. sent myself home so i could cry alone."

"you cried alone?"

"on my way home."

"oh baby cakes you cried alone."

"mistakes i hate. i hate mistakes. i really hate the mistakes i have to make."

in my dreams there is another car door just beyond the car door i swerve to avoid.

in my dreams i drive the car and ride the bike.

in my dreams i am grounded and airborne.

but when i'm awake i make mistakes i have to make.

you ring me on your way over and this is how the conversation unfolds:

"is that you babe, are you on your way?"

"yes my love, i'll come right up."

"just in time, tonight you are mine."

tomorrow we belong to the morning that will not let us sleep.