I Have Loved You Wrong.The cat's paw gently padded against the smooth, cool hardwood that nearly shone in the bright blue white balance of six a.m. Light elucidated every strand of fur lingering a few inches from its frail form, creating a soft evanescence of grey shades and tones as it swiftly stepped in and out of shadows from the slider doors. The amber contrast of the wood in the floor of the old refurbished town house against the azure hue of the cloud trick easily distracted from the feline's mission. The thick bamboo in the terracotta planter at the base of the winding, wrought iron staircase with its thin leaves and the ivory and navy toile drapes in the adI Have Loved You Wrong.
The Swell Season.Because I stood all night in the doorway staring at just how empty our bed could be I missed the chance to see you climb on topThe Swell Season.
of him and all his fantastic ideas, slowly lower yourself to his charming expectations and give your best head trip, give yourself openly to what they all expected of you, knew you would do.
All the 'Alright'.I only rest in beds of opium, blending bruises with the buds and the cuts with the petals. The colors fit like the cornerAll the 'Alright'.
of every puzzle that has lost a piece with the new scar tissue. The buds hold the hand of the ripening purple of damaged blood cells under my skin and match the shades of green from the grass that has stained the lacerations on my knees. These marvelous things are giving me the creeps. Bend and rip wide open and the opium petals catch the blood, little umbrellas in the opiate sea, but show no sign of stain. I blend here only.
A Little Disappointed.Packed one to six in the breakdown yesterday, blatantly ignored all signs of life and continued down the paths in strawberry fields behind your house. Tried yet again toA Little Disappointed.
linger as your face, like a satellite, circled into view from out behind that oak door I had been invited through so many times, as though this entry was your sun and no part of you could venture outside its gravitational draw. Especially to come be with me here.
Hummingbirds and chickadees and bumblebees see you peek out from within the confines of this house you’ve built around your only &
by =333bracket
by ~backlitstranger
languageisavirus.com
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It is not that love sometimes makes mistakes, but that it is, essentially, a mistake. We fall in love when our imagination projects nonexistent perfection on another person. One day the phantasmagoria vanishes, and with it love dies. -Ortega y Gasset
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Current novel-in-progress.
i do like a bunch of your notes!!
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(:
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we think that certain things, thoughts, or actions make us who we are, and sometimes we become addicted to those thoughts or behaviors and before we know it... weve become too afraid to let them go
I'm so glad I made it here!
Coming back to read more...
this is captivating writing.
It's been a drag seeing so many good ideas and deep, complicated feelings mangled by a lot of poets trying to accomplish the polished, coherent presentations you pull off so well.
You've given me motivation to start doing more reading here on DA ~it's a refreshing wake up for me.
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We'll drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and fight!! Oy!
-'Flogging Molly'
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stop hiding.
i can handle you.
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We'll drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and fight!! Oy!
-'Flogging Molly'
How's life? // What have you been up to?
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stop hiding.
i can handle you.
How about you? Any big developments?
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