What’s strange is, I know but I don’t know. At the same time, I don’t need to know, because I know.

Please don’t say a word. Midstream, we stopped rowing. The waves stopped crashing, we lose the oars and the boat slowly coasts to a complete halt against the bank of the river. You ask the worse questions. I asked and almost pleaded with you not to say a word. I placed my hand over your mouth for a reason. We are frozen for five minutes and it seems like forever.

Through my muffled hand, you blurt it out, “What’s wrong?” My heart becomes the sinking ship. It’s leaving me fast. Lord help me. Now the silence. I hate the silence. The weight rest on my soul like a ton of bricks. I also hate when the undeniable light comes on. Damn.

What’s strange is, I know but I don’t know. At the same time I don’t need to know because I know.

You ask me when I should be asking you, but I don’t need to ask you because I know.

The more questions you ask, raise the guillotine higher. You continue to weaken the wire as you force the blade down upon your own neck.

From twenty-two foot waves, uncontrollable raging waters and hurricane category winds to absolute, eerie silence.

Rather it’s the scent, common sense , cents, or since, it’s all a dead giveaway. One false move and the jig is up. Your strange approach, your touch, your taste, the lean of your head, your words, your moan, your encouragement, your kiss, your breathing, your rhythm, that thing you do, and now this? This is not adding spice, this is puncturing the bottom of the boat and we are both about to meet our demise.

The timing is off and I didn’t change it. I only know you and the key you sing in. I joyfully play in A flat but you are in a key that is unfamiliar to me. I have never heard you sing in this key. Our normal duet peppered with sweet melodious harmony has been diminished to a selfish solo and I have been placed in the nosebleed seats as a spectator. Who else have you been singing with? You don’t even remember the lyrics. High note? My Crescendo has been crushed by an Imposter posing as my co-creator.

He or she who dances with the devil will lose his rhythm and cadence.

You don’t have to say a w….. you don’t have to exp…….It hurts more to hear you talk because any word you use presses the dagger deeper. Let’s not.

Keep the lights off and be just be still. I have made a terrible mistake. Allow me to excuse myself with a least the dignity that I entered with. I will purposely pass all mirrors and reflections of myself for I am soiled and ashamed for believing in a magic carpet ride that never existed. Whew!!

What’s strange is, I know but I don’t know. At the same time I don’t need to know because I know. NOW I gotta go. To remain is to betray everything within me and I’ve already expired in the bottom of this river. My only hope is to live in the afterlife of life without you. Just so you know, I know.


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