not to be misconstrued as anguish

I am reassured that vultures fly as well as other birds. That my tendencies to circle disaster is an acceptable ecological niche. If I lick my bones too clean at the table, please remember that waste has only recently become fashionable.

I am an eraser of footprints. I am as wind is to sand, as salt is to water, as indifference is to love. I am the peice in the puzzle that leaves room to shuffle. The fire door that slams shut under heat.

Tears are not solid. They are liquid. Renowned for their fluidity. They are as mutible as all my ex boyfriends. They are joy and sorrow and boredom and pain.

I often laugh when I don't know how to react. It provides as little comfort to me as it does to you. You might see me cover my mouth when you falter. I am protecting us both from an akward mistake.