It Was Like When You Ripped A

I Couldn't Tell Her. I Couldn't Tell Anyone. As Long As I Didn't Say It Aloud, It Wasn't Real.

Once, She'd Been A Pro At Decompressing, Loved To Sit On The Back Deck Of The Beach House In One Of Our Splintery Adirondack Chairs For Hours At A Time, Staring At The Ocean. She Never Had A Book Or The Paper Or Anything Else To Distract Her. Just The Horizon, But It Kept Her Attention, Her Gaze Unwavering. Maybe It Was The Absence Of Thought That She Loved About Being Out There, The World Narrowing To Just The Pounding Of The Waves As The Water Moved In And Out.

Funny How A Beautiful Song Could Tell Such A Sad Story

It Was Just Perfect, Just Right All At Once.

But Against Love, The Case Was Solid. Easily Argued. And You Could, Indeed, Hold It In Your Hand.