Down the lane

Daffniblog

Sometimes I want it to be more than a metaphor. And how badly I want to see him tell me the things he thinks. Other times, I prefer the metaphor over reality because, like they say, truth can be hard to swallow. I wander between here and those dark places. They start out dark but there’s always a vision that blurs into view. One minute he begs for me to look at him, the next he’s got me against the ropes. Don’t get me wrong, his ups and downs excite me but they can make for some weary footsteps. Do you still look back on those times we stayed up drunk as skunks with a can of whipped cream. Or that period of time I knew you loved me, but you kept it as a trinket in your right hand. Then there’s that metallic taste that lingers behind your teeth…

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