By Justine Johnson - Posted on 05 October 2010

 it’s a challenge to find my words again these days. i’m choking on my own sentence structure and hoping to find some kind of catharsis in my functioning juxtaposition. it’s doubtful; i’m trying too hard.

it’s hard coming to terms with how willing and ready absence is to jump right in and make the gaping holes a little bigger. we both coughed up a little truth and a little resentment and what i interpreted as a whole lotta love and whole lotta pain. we kissed and oh yes, it was real. we waited until the sun rose and the alcohol slept and we drove home and ate steak cubes in bed. we rested the entire sunday away. i needed to be unconscious and hushed in your arms. that’s all i desperately needed.


i promise that promises are beads of correctness and right expectations. they serve a purpose and so do we. so do we.


and maybe, like in affliction (soon to come), something will come out of these feelings, a succulent dish will result from the odd ingredients. and you’ll smile and lick your lips and nod veraciously and ask for a second helping.


(however, restlessness feeds creativity, i’ve been told.)

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