(Untitled)

[myrueme]

Where we were.  A patchwork pink and yellow blanket lays the ground, trees shake their pine needle arms, and the sky is pastel aquarium.  Oh God, you don't know.  Behind the cliffs that we were thinking of falling down, a caterpillar comes crawling up.  Carrying the same blanket colors.  But the butterflies aren't in bloom.  They shun us in cocoons

Comments

[smackalalala]

So pretty. I love the use of color in this. It's vivid and extravagant.

[myrueme]

Thanks dude. This was something that reminded me of why writing can be fun. Something I haven't felt in a while.

[smackalalala]

I know both feelings so well. The feeling that writing is work, and then the feeling that writing is fun. So nice to feel the latter. :)

[myrueme]

Amen. Send me some of your writings so I can feel like we have more of a mutual understanding of each other (I just don't have the energy to keep up with my friends list, my computer's way too slow).

skyisacanvas@gmail.com

[thestral]

Pretty.

[myrueme]

Thanks.

[anonymous]

Beautiful. "Into the wrinkles of water that fall their laundry over beds of rocks, where we walk, our bodies ironed against the ground." Phenomenal.

[myrueme]

Thanks! I feel like I overuse the whole wrinkles/iron/laundry metaphors but I justify it by saying it's my style. Kind of like how Vonnegut says "and so on" in every book he writes.

[shesdownstairs]

You're such a good writer.
Also, I miss you.

[myrueme]

Thanks dude. And I miss you too. A whole lot. Sigh. Goddamn distance.

[dullexcitement]

you're rather talented. beautiful sentence structure and word choice.

[myrueme]

Thanks dude. It was a fun little ditty.