There is intent

in your words, I can hear them dropping from the tip of your tongue like the rain falling from the dark gray clouds. It speaks to me the way dogs whisper to the flowers as they lift their noses alongside a fire hydrant and then proceed to piss up it. Your intent slaps me on the face, leaving a dark red sting not unlike a bee’s sting but far more obvious and more controlled than an insect only trying to protect itself. It leaves me confused and unamused at your playing and the vicious words that you toss in my direction.

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