"He's dead." I told her. My second grade friend.
Gone.
On an otherwise ordinary day.
The plot thickened and with every word I sealed my fate
and with every wandering of my tongue, her eyes bored into my head as if she was desperately trying to find me in the shadows
or perhaps herself.
A deer, caught in the headlights
seeking connection and feeling shame in the wanting.
Knowing
you can't fill a well that leaks
but finding solace in trying.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment