baggage's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lit By A Candle Sometimes, I pretend I'm single. When I come home to an empty house, when I feed the cats and dog, when I cook myself a quick unhealthy dinner, when I eat out of the pan and in the kitchen so I don't dirty extra dishes, when I fall asleep on the sofa without blowing out the candles-I pretend I'm single. I pretend that all the dirty clothes in the wash are mine. I pretend that I know how to slice the kiwi in the fridge, I pretend that I'm making all the decisions, pretend that she won't be coming home in a few hours, or in a day. I pretend that I'm alone in my world-and that no one shares it with me. And then that emptiness washes over me like the ocean in wintertime-and I find myself waiting for her to walk through the door. And rip me out of my pretend world. And bring me back home with a wave of her hand. 2:36 p.m. - 2002-03-29 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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