Sunday, September 16, 2012

On Breaking Up With Your Therapist

She threw up her arms in conclusive frustration 
Maybe it was surrender to her most difficult patient 

For our rocky relationship was slipping away 
Fine grains of sand through both our fingers 

She let go of my hand that she'd held for ages 
She scribbled final notes on those mysterious pages 
We waited for the other to make a move for the door 
When we'd procrastinated sufficiently my eyes rose from the floor 
We locked a final gaze that meant only good-bye 
"Good luck" she bid me as I began to cry  

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