or, perhaps there is... taking it away when, although not full, it was still partially there and the dim light it shone into the dusk was so bright the dusk ceased to exist for a time.
dimming a light that is already on three quarters off, is like slamming the door in the face of a toddler, taking the wine soaked paper towel from the tiny wailing baby boy at his bris, rescinding the grandest promise only a few minutes after making it, indian giving the longest desired toy, easing a muscle ache then giving it back, scratching an itch followed by wisping the itchiest wispiest feather right on it with the lightest possible stroke. dimming someone else's already minimally perceptible light without asking if the light is needed is the meanest human act that can be taken.
tell me i'm frustrating, implore me to do or say, ask me to go or beg me to stay. whatever you do, don't dim my light when i walk out of the room. i can't see the way back with it on so low -- the walls are in my way now.
cc bloom and hillary the ill, call me a cliche, i am, but they say it well and they say it true -- you took away our friendship without even discussing it with me... i trusted it, i believed in it, but you didn't, and now it's gone.
a light switch is a friendship is a family tree, is a doctor patient bond is a mother a daughter, a pair over here and a pair over there, a blonde and a brunette is a sweetheart, a honey, a bunny. is a circle, a square, hearts and limbs in despair. but most of all, a light switch is that which brings us out of slumber to awakenness, and turn it off without asking, my day is now over.
flick
turning off that flicker which was already dimmed... flick that.
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