| Scraps | ©2009-2012 ~RhapsodyinAlto |


Liar The first summer I went to the YMCA, I was some horrifying combination of shy, arrogant and awkward in the way that ugly little girls are before they really realize that they're not beautiful princesses fiercely wishing and pretending and all the time ignoring their own reflection. I was also convinced that no one would ever want to be my friend, ever. It was Thursday; I had had the whole week to prove this statement beyond any lingering doubt. Oh, sure, mandatory fun games were always good for forced interaction, but the minute that capture the flag was over, all the boys would have formed back into gangs and the girls had split off iLiar by ~RhapsodyinAlto


These small excavations... There's a box whereThese small excavations... by ~RhapsodyinAlto
I still keep holy relics,
sacred texts scrawled and
intricately folded,
holy vials that still smell
like peppermint Schnapps
(the better to kiss you with,
my dear).
Candles and crushes, half-
melted from use.
Bibles that were bound
together with hot glue and duct tape,
detailed with stained glass doodles,
premonitions, quotes from the
holy scriptures of Heinlein
and Kesey;
some notable fragments
that never quite form the whole.
And at the very bottom,
in a brightly wrapped box,
there is a stick
of shattered wood.
Your hands,
your passion,
cracked it
open
(perfect gouges,
straight
--
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