If my movements remain subtle

then I’ll have acquired the grace
for another flail toward romance.

Wait until the memories
have been drained
of their ability to impact
through repetitive replay
of sufficient narration.

No fast moves.
No attachment.
No ripples.

Only the constant assessment of risk.
Silent weighing of opposites.
Contemplating whether or not to throw
the first blunt remark
that yields the question of emotional abuse.
Or the seething that follows incessant annoyances
avoided until only two strangers remain close
to maintain convenience.

M S C, 08112016

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