soapboxdiner

Moving right along

In your silence, you tell me I am outgrown. In my anger and my hurt, I ache to tell you no. It is not I who have been outgrown but you who has become overgrown.

You are lucky I am without weapon. Every muscle I possess shakes with the desire to cut you down. You are lucky my emotion has yet to overpower my wit, and I simply leave you be. Just over there. Instead of here with me.

4:32 pm - 11.22.03
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