Still love my boots though.

Confrontation, conflict, avoidance, regression, 

passive nature, repression, passive aggression.  

Let time pass, blow over, fade.  

Just laugh and move forward, anxieties made.  

Whenever I see her I want to ask why she's such a bitch. 

This woman is causing a wound I must itch.  

Familiar by name but not by the soul. 

I think it is time to crawl out of my hole. 

Ask her to speak what she already shows.

Show her I mean it by withholding low blows. 

We may emerge much closer than now, 

but I suspect she will only prove she's a cow.  

Take swings at my character, 

pinch at my pride.  

There is nothing she hasn't already implied. 

So soon we will box, 

a sight it will be, 

though I already know

I will come out of this me.  

Maybe there will be a surprise up her sleeve.

A spark of humanity, 

capacity to bleed.

Perhaps its my head that is causing the scuff.

Maybe she's not actually really that tough.   

Paranoia waters the seeds of my worry.

I better resolve this, 

with stealth and with hurry, 

before it grows to uncontrollable rage.

Let me emerge from this, seasoned sage. 

On the "to do" list this week:  Tie up loose ends.  Some letters must be spoken face to face. (See my long forgotten blog 5ifty 2 for more info on this.  Thank you knittingnora for encouraging me to continue.)  

Shirt: thrifted Lane Bryant

Belt, hat, purse, scarf: Vintage thrifted

Boots: vintage gift

Necklace: World Market

Temper: PMS