He Said:
Blow out the candle. I hate the element of surprise. Especially with these "important dates". I always feel like it's an ambush. She holds her hair away from her face and smiles. I shrug.
Seven years together. I'm not sure what it all means. Maybe she hates him, maybe she wants to prove that its over, maybe, just maybe, she really doesn't care. His eyes on me, unblinking, let me know that he knows. I have been invited to taunt him. For a moment, I am swallowed whole by a hollow feeling as the sister, unsuspecting, rests a head on my shoulder and laughs.
She Said:
Midnight. Every year on the same day. The same story. No matter where, how, who or what. The last ritual of pretense. Happy birthday, baby. And for a minute, time freezes back. To the first time, with the pink rose and the snickers bar. When it was good, clean fun. No ties or lies. I know, feeling myself trip, and pulled back into hollow, nothing can come of this. But I say, thank you, anyway.
Happy 1st Birthday ARTSHARKS,
2 comments:
happy new year blog
Bon anniversaire!
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