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B is for Ms. Patti

I’m standing on this cliff. This very moment I’m standing on the edge, loose stones under these shoes. I knew I shouldn’t have worn them but I thought it best to have my feet covered with truth… so much for that. because for all the truth I wear, my lips shell out lies. Not to you. Never to you. Only to me.

Me who says, “I’m not a romantic”
Me who refuses to admit that there’s something to admit… to you.
Me who wants to say, “listen…. I think…. I know…. I know that this is weird but… I…”
But I don’t – lest I scare you off.

Me who used strategy and lex ish principals, trying to be smooth as, calm as, wise as but the dim light in my head gets dimmer.

How do I jump from the edge without causing you to scream?
How do I say these words without making your mouth dry?
How can I say, he is nothing but a shadow on the wall but I am… more?
How do I tell you, I have felt what you are and I know what it is and for that… you are now my craving – without the calories and the guilt that comes from the morning after.

Ms. Patti says, “If only you knew”. If only….
But then what?
Cut the cocoon too early and the moth dies. Sit and wait for the blossom to grow makes little sense either. So I wait. And I wait. Patience is a virtue I thought I lost, but really it was sitting in your doorstep, where I come to polish my shoes. These truths I now have under my feet, on the edge of the cliff, in the stillness of the day, not wanting to say…. Not wanting to make you run away…. Not making you want to….

Man, Ms. Patti… if only she knew… where the trail of my heart ends, she would know that it is impossible for me NOT TO BE a good friend.

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