Monday, November 7, 2011

if God will send His angels.

at that point
those years ago
I had to finally decide
between two mutually exclusive things:

did I want her to be with me?
or did I want her to be happy?

I knew I couldn't have both
so I let her back into the wild
and watched her thrash and burn

but tonight
I will admit to only you who read this:

that I wish she was miserable
because then she would've been here

and as I walked home 
the wind was blowing so hard
but the frost on the grass stood still,
waiting for something to melt it all away.

I'm so tired of writing this way.
maybe I'll just move to New Mexico.

that's the ticket.


emilyf said...

if you don't write this way, on whom will we rely when we need to read this way?

Meg said...


Liz said...

ohhhhh how I wish I didn't understand this