wait, they don't love you like i love you

Aug 29, 2004 20:39

"He never cried, not even in his dreams,
for hard-heartedness was a point of pride. A large iron anchor
withstanding the corrosion of the sea and scornful of
the barnacles and oysters that harass the hulls of ships,
sinking polished and indiffrent through heaps of
broken glass, toothless combs, bottle caps, and prophylactics
into the mud at the harbor bottom---that was how he liked to
imagine his heart. Someday he would have an anchor tattooed
on his chest."
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