

The Seven Stages of AmbiguityTryst. [love]The Seven Stages of Ambiguity
It took her six weeks and seventy-two phones calls to her girlfriend in Paris to realise he wasnt worth the twelve hundred dollar phone bill and sixteen rude letters re:unpaid bills from her phone company, left in neat chronological strata in her trash can.
It took her five weeks for that uneasy sensation, akin to that felt when balancing on the precipice between safety and three forward flips before impact renders you unconscious, to manifest and take up timeshare apartment in the lower east side of her stomach.
It took her four weeks before she could no longer discern the difference


sometimes, like acid, it burns[1] Its warm. not the oppressive warm of the day, and not yet the cool of the evening just a stagnant warm that is complemented by the soft breeze, not broken by it, a half-arsed warmth, feeling like you do at ten to knock off time, when you know you have to carry on working but its so close to the end that it doesnt quite feel worth it or its like that state you reach, just before you completely succumb to the realms of sleep, when youre lost in dreams yet still conscious of the world around you, gently hanging on to the tip of reality by the tiniest of threads.sometimes, like acid, it burns
Theres a million romantic ways
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trapped in a box by a cockney nutjob?
have a cup of tea
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