If there is a special Hell for writers, it would be the forced contemplation of their own works. -John Dos Passos

Thursday, March 29

Isosceles

I know him. Sort of.
He didn't seem like much to me,
And when you ask me I mind
I smile and say
"If it makes you happy, baby."
But I stab him with my eyes
And I leave a bite mark on your neck.
He'll find it, but I don't think he'll understand.

I certainly don't.

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