selva oscura (anonymousblack) wrote,
selva oscura

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reckon love deals us the same

i couldn't. i lean into it. i forget all my lines. i wouldn't. i work a new surface. i reconstruct the original process as i am best able. and somewhere deep within it. somewhere far below the certainties and absolutes. deeper even than the ambiguities and rhetoric. somewhere that no one has ever been. somewhere that no one would ever go.

it's just: how did i live like that? and it's also: how did i deprive myself of it for so long? now it's gone and i keep coming back to it, slamming into it, bruised over and through, bruised blood-speckled and black & blue blue blue but that can't be the end! that won't be the end! for whatever reason, i refuse to let it end! and that can only mean i will let it be the end of me. what is wrong with me? what am i doing? why am i thinking about it this way?

such absolutes, such indignities.

i am exhausting
i am exhausting
i am so very

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