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Unwell

hooded-vultures

We circle around each other like ravenous vultures waiting for the other to fall first for a meal.

Your hands are around my throat and mine are clutching the knife pressed into your chest. I feel like my fight’s worth more, while you think the same about yours. Neither of us are right.

Even with beasts of prey falling beneath us, none else seems worthy besides you and I. I don’t know how we came to hate and crave and actually value with such anger. It was too glamorous to give up. So we kept at it even after our whole bodies ached.

After time had passed our wings grew too tired to move, so on the ground we were, slowly moving in circles waiting for the other to finally give up. There was no longer fire in the way we waited, only a sick longing in our poisoned minds.

Two wild creatures perfectly matched in a game of “wait.”

But finally when your foot stopped, so did mine. When your head could no longer keep itself up, mine dropped, too.

Finally, after all this time, we were done with this game. Neither to win over the other, only both of us tired beyond imaginable and nothing to show but withered feathers and sorrowful hearts.

So much time and anguish had passed but finally we were able to lay side by side, knowing full well after this night we were done. Done with this fight, this game, this wanting to see the other fall.

And in the morning one of us would shower while the other packed, and so much quicker than the battle would the aftermath be cleaned – only our tired hearts to mend over time.

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