Friday, December 26, 2008
Hunting a hunter
It wasn't you I couldn't let go of. It was me. I was just like you. I was always going to run the other way too. I was always going to slither away without trying to wake anyone. I was always going to be the unattainable. I wasn't the cat. I'm the mouse who runs. Not the hunter, but the prey who runs for dear life.
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