collapsable triathalons...i only fell apart when the race was halfway done, no more than that I told her, the next leg is yours, a leg up...you got me. If you don't choose to finish, we both lose. Sometimes the past wonders what it will be in the future, will it continue to maintain the present, or lose lustre, shine less brightly, like the car i used to wash every day. she was my baby.
and closer than hands held together, we moved pushing run into stairs i couldn't step up. the past had shorter legs, it didn't move as fast as the present, more to contend with i suppose, less to move with it said. figuring out no more than loss, she told me it was the end that mattered, not what i had done, but where i ended up, what race i finished, not where i started from. I knew there was some truth to it, but if only i could have run further from my self, started less inside, more close to her, i wanted the race to be through her veins, i could be moving like hammurabi in her heart, cutting ribbons, letting her head fall to the floor. she was only held together by the knot. by the end.