Monday, September 17, 2007

Supplicaiton

Beach. Cool breeze. Wine. Tears. “Its going to get a lot worse,” she says.

“I know. I’ve cleared my weekend for mourning.”

“Not just for you. Its not just about you! For me.”

Fuck. Of course it is. Of course.

This is a supplication for healing. Not for my sorrow, but for yours.