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a matter of contention

by Emily Tong

I had a whispered protest;
I held this tight underneath
my lips, sealed and straight, a look
I knew was unattractive, but allowed it to sprawl across
my face
anyways.

you stood in the door where I'd hoped
you'd lean toward the lighter side of
you and me, but didn't.
your eyes are filling, the surface tension breaks.
you are unfamiliar. i don't know
you.
anyways, what the fuck did

I do? or what didn't
you do? where did the line between
us harden? - when did
water become more wet and
sand become more dry?
Both the thoughts
we left for thinking were less than
you and
I could ever be.

why?

12/03/2007

Posted on 12/03/2007
Copyright © 2024 Emily Tong

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