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Pockets I tell you how fine I am- (Did you know I’m a liar?) So the truth, it jingles constantly, like a pocket full of change. I could say that I’m saving it for the ‘right moment’- (Don’t you wish you could collect them and save them up like get out of jail cards and crazy 8’s?) My well would be overflowing with your candor- Pennies from heaven, and mustard seeds rolling dog-like beneath my feet, while my own abandoned honesty jangles loudly, threatening to give away my game- (This façade I’ve crafted, teeters dangerously on the brink… Would you despise what lies beneath?) The cold thought of your departure causes my teeth to chatter, and brings roundabout a seething strangulation. As my throat constricts, my worries heave the solid earth that I am standing on, until your faith rolls like marbles, toppling me like a lightning strike. (Ever play kick the can in roller skates?) Roots pull from soil, ricocheting in my head like a toy guitar with those nylon strings- (ker plink, ker plink) One last shudder, as the dirt of me rains all around- My truths lay exposed and quiet, a sort of grating whisper that feels like forever, until I realize you haven’t turned away: Your heart presses ever closer than before! Finally, your hand reaches for mine, pulling me back to daring to breathe, and as we walk along, I could almost swear it never happened… But my footsteps are lighter, my closet is empty, and my pockets are quiet. |
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