a hammer eats the coral.
i beheld an opera. and upon opening a woman, i call her a woman but not as they call her a woman, as the opposite of man. i call her a woman as i would call a goddess by a title more discreet. the one i am with leans over and whispers to me that this woman holds her attention with a note which by comparison i should never find another voice pleasing again. by pleasing i mean soft and comfortable though a bit unnerving. by another voice i mean yours. by your voice i mean the scraping of gravel beneath feet as children play a game of their own invention that my chest is not light enough to even consider joining in tonight. i pull her head against my shoulder after being sure that it is soft. a bit unnerving. and all that she desires. oh look! i have captured beauty in a jar! but the longer i look upon it the more i wish to set it free. oh hear! i have held a note that she finds desirable! but the longer i hold it the more i will ruin her belief in love. oh touch! we have found a position we can agree on. but the further it goes the more i learn that all this body does is lust. i stood and applauded. and upon closing a woman who had rested her hand upon mine did the same. though from the corner of my left eye i swore she was pretending. and as that goddess left the stage we both went our seperate ways. i call it a parting. but not as she calls it a parting, the same as an amputation. i call it a parting as i would call it an escape from a jar.