My life as a widow

[shey_shaw]

What is a widow?
contained in happiness?

We have tasted the blood of all we know
all we love
love?
all we love!

we drink to ourselves
and all we love
and we know ourselves
half of ourselves

we give gifts
to others
as if they were ourselves
in ode to ourselves

our lives as widows.

THAT GOD DAMNED MOOD BOX IS NEVER BIG ENOUGH!!!!!

Comments

maybe you should learn to keep your moods to a 200 character minimum. sucka

[pearls_aside]

kudos on the lines. that last "we give gifts" stanza reminds me of...brace yourself for non-surprisedom...something Proust says about our relationships, most specifically with people we fall in love with, but friendship to a less drastic degree.

he wrote about how people create others in their own minds, and when they mourn that person's death or separation from them, really they are only mourning the physical objects, places and sensations they've attached to that person. they mourn the death of the idea, thus pleasing as well as tormenting themselves.

he relates it to what your wrote, how when we give gifts, even if we mean to give freely without intent, (which is rarely), really they are doing it for our own sakes, and not for the person the gift is for.

that rambles and doesn't make as much sense as i'd like, but at any rate, you can refer to that part of your writing as Proustian, if you like. your vanity will thank me.

[shey_shaw]

i'm just glad (although not the least bit surprised) that you got the main idea of what i was talking about.