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Courtesy of New Evolution Designs

Losing My Cool Is Not An Option

Naw, not happening.

Here were are. Just us two. The two of us. Two, not one. Two, only two.

Where did you think we would go from yesterday? From a week ago? From last year? We are destined to fall for the words we have shared. They have weight.

Strong enough to break us. Weak enough to have a Boston show up in a game of Spades.

Then, there’s me. I have a space for you tucked neatly in the middle of my heart. A reserved space; “No Parking Anytime.”

All For You.

But, I would calmly remove you from my center the moment you become toxic. I have enough bad energy hovering over my family, begging for my glue. I cannot go putting you back together again, as well.

And, you hate this. You want more of what I have to offer.

So well put-together. Your lips, a pleasant surprise on days when rain wants to dance on the tip of my tongue. You step in its way, pirouetting flawlessly on your toes. Ballerinas don’t bend like this. They’re stronger. You are unraveling right before my eyes and I am running out of tape.

A piece of tape, affixed to your arm. Another to cover your foot. Several more applied to your torso.

But you crash and burn, flail, and crack. All of you shatter right in front of me.

I do not flinch. I do not move.

I pick you up, piece by piece, wipe off your dusty portions, and solve the puzzling you in five minutes, flat.


You are in awe of this, caressing my neck with the subtlety of whispered words. I feel your breath piercing through. It gains entry.

“You are broken.”

“You can repair me.”

“I am not here to fix you. I can love you in halves. You do not have to be whole.”

“But, that will not be fun for you, will it?”

I will create the fun. I can imagine you as my favorite theme-park, full of thrilling rides, flat sodas, and greasy hot dogs. You, my teacups, my favorite Put This Ball in the Hoop game, incredibly mysterious.

You rely on the cool of me to enhance every part of you.

And, enhancing is what I do best.

Written by

I’m more than breath & bones, I’m nectar in waiting — Owner ACG •Editor PSILY •Writing for the cosmos. •

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