CDs double as coasters these days, it's a win-win. Art by Tristan Elliott
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He put me on the redeye, sent me head first for the surface of a shallow pool that I can't free myself from. And no distance put between us can extract this feeling of weakness that I'm overcome by on a regular basis.
When my vernacular fails me and it's all I can do to stay standing, it becomes so clear he's still got me caught in that stare and I can't tear myself away. No, I wouldn't dare look away.
I've finally stopped watching the scoreboard, let the clock run out our spring afternoons as the lights dim thoughts he once owned. But how can I harness this feeling left behind by my most infamous weekend? A situational rebellion; a swing and a miss, but like this, no one wins.
...from all that's it's done and all that I've caused. Why can't I just be enough to fight this flood thats slowly consuming all I have and carrying us out to sea. I swear, this uncertainty will be the death of me. It's not what I want, but it's all that I've got.
When my vernacular fails me and it's all I can do to stay standing, it becomes so clear he's still everything I dreamed, but nothing I want or need.