Small Talk

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I don't know that you want the answer to the question you asked

No, I don’t mean I have some deep darkness leashed inside that will come pouring out

at the slightest provocation

a black, destroying wave of vitriol and despair.


Please.


If nothing else, give my demons more credit than that.

They play well with others.

No, what I mean is I don’t know you.

I know your name, I know some choice facts; you hate Mondays (coffee cup) and had salad for lunch (its in your teeth. Just there, to the left, left, got it), but I don’t know you. I don’t know what weighs on your heart, what secret joys light you up in ways no one else will understand.

I guess what I’m trying to say is I don’t trust you.

Don’t look like that, its not personal. Why would I open my heart up and lay my fears and hopes and dreams out for your perusal; invite you to play this hand with no minimum bet?

Give me skin.

Give me a talisman of scrimshawed bone carved with the names etched behind your eyes. Let me into you, and perhaps I will let you into me.

If that’s what you really want, then I will take your hand and we can jump feet first into the plunge pools of each other. Perhaps you will break yourself on the shallows, or maybe you will sink and sink and sink…

Only one way to find out.

So, if that’s what you really want…


Ask me again.



Brandon McWilliams