Jul 05, 2008 00:35
The storm subsides.
The air is warm and still,
sticking to my skin.
As I inhale the lingering scent of rain,
I think of these Things I hold;
these Things belonging to you which I gladly kept,
and now - don't know where to put.
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That's the kind of idea that I really like, and would need a whole lot of courage to actualize. There are some Things, however, that can't physically be burned, you know? - the Things one wants to let go of, and isn't quite sure how. - the Things held internally.
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