The pleasant sun ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

i can no longer use this to write ( Read more... )

Words do not hold enough to speak ( Read more... )

I've spent the past two hours reading and re-reading the entries of this journal. My chest is bleeding from incessant picking that my fingers failed to give up...this past makes me nervous. Who is this girl? Have all these words and thoughts been lost to time? I dont remember writing such things, feeling such things- were they honest? Do i envy my ( Read more... )

I sit beneath my windowsill

Reciting his words, reciting

His poetry.

With pure white bread against my lips

Sharing essence with the smoke of feeling

From my lungs

I recite his poetry.

And these words fill the space

Between the tips of the trees

And the sky of this place.

We will remember this

As it was; a shared crop of feeling.

We are the arms of lovers.

( Read more... )

( Read more... )

( Read more... )

And if there were some way to love someone in complete secrecy, for whatever reason, I would not. I could not fathom the selfless expression. To make love known is beauty, and it is simply that one can deal with love in no other form or sense. There is a young man with such cantankerous nature; and the young women pine and spread out their sheets ( Read more... )

( Read more... )