poem: the curse written: 10:10 p.m. on Friday, Jan. 07, 2005
The Curse
it�s not too late to turn back now erase the silence at the other end redial, rewind, re-tell the tale so that what�s been said can be unsaid i�d stuff the water back into the jug before you slip and fall you have no idea how many knives i find in the drawer at times like these all flying out at me aiming straight for where it hurts the most and i could count them but i wouldn�t because it cheapens the feeling of you keeping silent, at the other end of the line, not saying a word, leading me towards the edge of the cliff.
but i lied in the beginning: it is too late to turn back now the words hang in the air, spoken too soon, too loudly and i could almost reach out, grab each letter in my hand and watch it float away, taking this moment along with it, far far away
a cacophonous orchestra of unwanted words the glass is always half-empty and this proves, once again the truth that i�ve always known: when i touch you, you turn to stone.