Sep 23, 2011 17:31
If I make a claw with these fingers, stick them down my throat - can I throw up this love, into the sink, on the bathroom floor, onto the curb on the street? Can I shove my hands to purge these gastric walls of a million unwanted little butterflies?
If only there were diuretics for human emotions, so we'd be able to pee ourselves out of a heartbreak. If only they made laxatives for love, so we can crap our pants at the first sight of it,
but it roots into your veins and it courses through your blood, crawls under your skin until it is oozing from your eyes and bursting at the ends of your fingertips.
And you can throw up a thousand times over, pluck it out the very moment it rears it's ugly head only to find that two more has grown in it's place.
or something like it,
love