he clenched the sand in his fist as if he had some strange desire to push out every grain until he could find something tangible inside. because we all want something to hold on to. and when grains of sand fall through the cracks, theres nothing anyone can do but pray that the wind doesnt sweep them too far away.

and sometimes we have to sit here by ourselves, saying "this is ok, this has to be ok." and though we'd rather be sitting with someone else, it is just understood that we cant. some people just dont belong to one another. "you dont fit me," he says. or doesnt say (he doesnt have to). that people are like gloves, and the fact that they both match in ( Read more... )

imagine clouds falling. on top of our heads and the water pouring down from our closed eyelids and sliding down our cheeks into our empty palms. and imagine watering the daisies by lukes pond until they grow up into the sky to stick their heads into the clouds. and we could lie there wondering about wondering and not knowing why. we're always ( Read more... )

youre in the stars now, she said as her hand floated up and down his back. he could barely feel a thing, as if a puff of air had simply escaped from some follicle in the couch and run along his spine. and so he accepted it merely as that, and closed his eyes again to the world. and she could never know the world he saw beneath those eyes, a world ( Read more... )

i think its funny that the lines in our hands fall like lines in the trees with no real begining or end. and so hands, like trees, can be cut down and silenced one by one until theres nothing left to stand ground. "i think youre great," she says. "i think youre great, but youre too much for me," she says and walks away. and on that note, he plays a ( Read more... )

Luke's been particularly sad lately, and it's hard to be sure of why. I doubt he even knows. I think it's just a time in his life when tears seem most appropriate and laughing is some kind of foreign language. And I often see him picking the wild flowers that grow in his yard, as if he's choosing some souvenir of his emotion to tie up in a colorful ( Read more... )

she holds her hands up towards the sky and asks for rain. and as the drops fall like petals onto her cheeks, she smiles and walks to higher ground. the pages fold around her at the crease and she pretends not to notice the world growing smaller. and though shes leaving home for good, she cant help thinking that theres nothing left for her here. not ( Read more... )

we settle on fine lines and needle point, forgetting that nothing can be spelled out without a fight. i want to be on my own. i want to run through these trees until i trip and fall and sink into the crumbling leaves into my crumbling leaves head first into your tumbling leaves. the sea sometimes falls around me. like two drunk kids trying to ( Read more... )

a young boy sits with his arms folded across his legs and his lips crossed in an attempt to keep whats left of anything he once thought he had. and his head sits on the knee of some stranger with whom he has already told words which he would never think of saying to anyone familiar. and though she says shes cold, he cant feel a thing besides this ( Read more... )

you drove in your car and i watched you with my eyes closed and your hands upon the wheel and my hands upon your hands and we drove. and you said youd never felt anything like this, and i told you that you probably never would again. i threw my hair out of the window and watched it dance next to the sun and the wind screamed sad things into my ears ( Read more... )