Twelve Years of tacit negotiation,
Forever logging concessions.
Rounding up our own,
Rounding down those received.
Twelve Years of reinvented intimacies;
Brief renewals of interest.
Where'd you learn that?
Oh, you just heard about it. Oh.
Twelve Years of conspiracy; of partnership in crime.
Of dangerous confession; blackmail material.
Twelve Years of personality roulette.
Monogamy? But I count at least three of you.
Twelve Years of sacrifice and reward.
Twelve Years of vanity.
Look everyone! Look what we've accomplished.
Twelve Years and we are still just strangers on a sidewalk,
Eyeing one another in a shopfront window.
.
.
Flash Fiction: Don’t Forget the Veg…
-
As Joel looked through the kitchen cupboard this evening, what he saw could
best be described as “organized chaos”. Oh wait, no, it wasn’t even
organized. ...
3 hours ago
2 comments:
I like it... I wish I could write nice sentimental pieces like this. I'm gonna tuck this one away for another 9 years and then read it to my girlfriend (I suppose wife by then) like I wrote it myself...
That's absolutely beautiful, Fwig. I love it.
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