Fear of saying goodbye

November 6, 2008

Your face was placid, neutral, devoid of whatever could be called fierce or righteous. There was no indignation there. There was no passion. There was only blankness to belie what was really happening—the fact that you were not slipping away, that you slipping away would indicate a there that was never there. What I mistook for love was simply fear of saying goodbye.


  1. another good one… mmm! these are like word-bites-of-soup!

  2. Would that the soup had been tasty, El Gee…

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