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1:06 p.m. - 12/09/03
yeah, well, we're all scared sometimes.
little poem expecting winter.

I walked through the cold today to mail letters that needed to be sent. five Christmas lists to my father, who can't seem to collect the information himself. a green envelope decorated festively. no sign that I hate the impending holiday, except the tears in my head, behind my eyes, keeping me from making contact, from smiling at people who passed. in my heart, begging forgiveness for feeling too beaten to be as I said and do as I swore I would do. it's little things. call her. go out. it's the sort of things the doctor tried to pre-empt with a prescription not long back, an i-am-a-worthwhile-friend-even-on-those-days-i-feel-otherwise carte blanche. or it would be. it would be a carte blanche if I'd believe the words...

+

like the first autumn
unsuspecting leaves
fall
taking expectations
heedlessly; on their way,
promises break.
too gentle to gather.
too fragile to rake.

love me bare and love me
when I unhinge from myself.

chord

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