It tastes like tomorrow. Feels like cotton candy on my tongue. As the slick slivers dissolve into my mood. All concfected with sorrow until every strand is but a wisp. What once was solid only an afterthought now. As alone together we assume eachother in our various poses.
Faulty mirrors full of distorted reflections.
I wnanted something to want, but I never found it. So I decided instead I'd wait until I was wanted.
If that time should ever come.
There are already too many wives. Too many mothers. So what is there left for me to be, except what I am.
Child. Daughter. Lover. Alcoholic.
Perhaps a little more.
If that should ever come to be.
Saturday
11/19/2005 11:56:00 PM
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