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Milquetoast



Weíve known for a long time now.
It has to end,
but you donít want to cut the line,
and I sure as hell donít.
The fights lay forgotten
like dirt swept under the rug,
when the moment comes.
We both try to speak at once
and laugh awkwardly.
The silence returns.
Too quickly, we reach for eachother like rain-soaked children
sharing an umbrella;
hold eachother until the storm passes.
The urge is gone temporarily,
but it perches on my thoughts,
kneading slowly with claws of steel.

-MWE
April 2000