Sunday, May 2, 2010


At 4am this morning I choked on a sharp intake of breath as my eyes flashed open to fixate on the contrast of a pale ceiling and a darkened skylight.

29, beautiful, and good doesn't mean healthy.
Being in love doesn't mean you wake up next to each other.
Play Hurt isn't a sufficient plan.

My mind starts to chant in the Sondheim rhythm... "One midnight gone. One midnight gone..."
Go back to sleep, love.
There will be more revised expectations in the morning.

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